Sinners
by Ladya C. Maxine
Summary: Criminology student Tala is sent to consult captured sociopath Kai Hiwatari in the hopes of catching another serial killer. Their dangerous relationship is taken to the next level when Kai escapes to pursue Tala. KaiXTala Ch 21 AND 22 up!
1. January 10: Gluttony

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** Tala Ivanov, a law enforcement trainee, is sent to Japan to solve the twisted intentions of a psycho serial killer. Once there, he is sent to interrogate Kai Hiwatari, the most sadistic yet intelligent mass murder in the world. Things only get more complicated when Hiwatari escapes the asylum, and begins a deadly cat-and-mouse game with Tala.

**Warnings:** yaoi, strong language, mature themes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

**A/N:** This story was inspired by two of my favourite films: _The Silence of the Lambs_, and _Se7en_. Note that in this fic the characters are older than in the canon Beyblade series, of course.

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**Sinners**

by Ladya C. Maxine

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_**Monday, January 10**__**th**__**, 2004. **_

_**Time: 23.45**_

Stepping to one side to allow an ash-faced officer to barge pass him, Tala looked away as the shaken man proceeded to violently vomit between the police cruisers parked on the wet street. Wailing sirens and excited voices soon drowned out the dry heaves. Curious onlookers stood by on tiptoes, peering over the heads blocking their view of the front of the building. Another officer shouted angrily at two members of a news crew who had been trying to sneak pass the police tape, eager to find out what could have caused such excitement on an otherwise uneventful winter night.

'Not very promising,' Tala thought, watching the traumatized officer, who had slump against a car and was wiping the sick from his mouth and chin. Raising his small recorder, Tala's breath frosted over its receiver as he spoke. "Monday, 23.45. Establishment is an apartment complex."

"Tala Ivanov?" said a voice in a distinct American accent.

He turned to find a stocky man standing behind him, arms crossed and broad face red from the cold. Putting away his recorder, Tala held out a hand, which the other shook firmly.

"Detective Steven Burke," the man introduced himself before motioning, "Follow me."

The din of sirens and the press behind them were muffled when the doors closing behind them. They found themselves in a shabby front entrance hall. The mailboxes to their left—some with broken locks, others with broken doors—had collected more cobwebs than mail. The air was thick with recently stirred dust from the officers examining the place, dusting off anything they found interesting and snapping photos of whatever could be bagged before shoving it into labelled bags and passing it along until it reached one of the forensic vans outside.

"Hope you got enough sleep during the flight over," Steven said, leading the way up the old, poorly maintained staircase. "You know what you need to know, right?"

"About the last week's murder, yes. I wasn't expecting to go to work the moment I landed."

"Tonight caught everyone off guard. I'm supposed to be watching the game right now over at a friend's house while his wife's out of town. Thing is, I live here, so I have to come out every time they find a body." He paused, holding out an arm to stop Tala as well. "What I don't get is why they went through the trouble of plucking a student out of his third year of criminology at some Russian university and fly him in, just for one murder. Either the Captain's just feeling homesick and decided to bring in a fellow Muscovite, or your head of faculty decided that a hands-on investigation would make a great topic for your thesis statement."

"I admit, I was surprised when Bry—Captain Balcov contacted my instructor," Tala said. They resumed their ascent, keeping to the wall to allow those in greater hurry to squeeze past them on the narrow stairs. Their climbing came to an end on the fourth floor. "I want to enter the field of criminal behaviour, but this is rushing things. I read up on the Ginko murder on the plane; do you think this is something similar? Can I record this, by the way, Detective Burke?" He held up the device.

"If you're going to be a part of the investigating team, conform: first names are preferred. Yeah, record away. Just make sure it doesn't fall into the media's hands."

"What's the victim's background, Steven?"

"Still gathering that information. All we know right now is that some of the tenants up on the fourth floor began noticing a strange smell coming from the apartment. Well, stranger than usual, even for this place," Steven said, stepping over something that had soaked into the carpet. "Gary Gao, the tenant, hadn't been seen or heard from for a couple of days. The landlord tried knocking, didn't get an answer, so let himself in with the spare key, then backed out at once because of the smell. 'Smells like sewage rot' he said. 'I know bad news when I smell it.' So he called the police instead, and they made the actual discovery. Hey, who went wild with the tape?" Steven asked loudly as they had to duck under yet more police tape across the corridor. "Stuff's inexpensive, but go easy with it. This is a crime scene, not Kamiya's bachelor party all over again!"

The officers in the corridor chuckled at the memory of what must have been a hell of a party.

"What?" Steven asked, noticing Tala's critical stare.

"Is that appropriate, making jokes at the scene of a crime?"

"I've been in this line of work for almost ten years," Steven said gruffly, putting Tala in his place. "My father, his entire life, pretty much. How did he manage? How do we all manage? Disconnection. Be passionate about your work, but don't get too emotionally attached. In here."

Door 77 was being guarded by a uniformed officer, to make to keep out any nosy neighbour disobeying police order to stay inside their own apartment.

"Lesson two: reality," Steven said, pulling Tala's travel bag out of his hands and leaving it at the officer's feet. "Mistakes won't just be punished with lower grades. We joke around, but we don't mess around. Stay focussed, and until you've gotten the hang of it—for example, able to crack a joke over a cold corpse—watch and learn, and do whatever it is you do that got you out here, and everyone will be happy. Well, except for Gary Gao, but that ship's already sailed. By the way, brace yourself for a surprise."

"I know not to expect the body of someone who's died peacefully in his sleep."

" I'm talking about my colleague. Hang on," Steven said, stepping back outside when someone called his name.

Left in the living room, Tala looked about the cluttered apartment, speaking his findings into the recorder, wondering what type of person could possible stand living in such a place. Granted, if kept clean the apartment would be a comfortable enough home, but this tenant had not been a big fan of housekeeping. Unwashed clothes were strewn everywhere and Tala couldn't help noticing they were of the triple-plus-size range. The furniture was all second hand and shabby; the lamp shade was worn and torn, and the couch before the crackling television sagged badly in the middle and none of the cushions matched. The curtains were still drawn, and judging by the cobwebs in their folds they hadn't been opened for some time.

The stench was the worst. Everyone in here was wearing facemasks for protection, but those were useless against the smell, which was that of wet garbage, mould, spoiled food, and the unmistakable reek of decaying flesh. A pair of gloves and a facemask were pushed into his hands by someone.

"Well, it's about time something tasteful showed up in this place," said a drawling American accent coming from Tala's left, but it wasn't Steven. "Shame you got to cover that pretty face, but health and safety come first."

The man had a good-looking, chiselled face, which was framed by messy dark red hair hidden beneath a black cap. The leather jacket, with a bald eagle patch sewn on the back, covering the t-shirt with a large marijuana leaf printed on the chest, gave the misleading impression that this guy had just wandered in off the streets. Only, he wasn't, according to the badge hanging around his neck.

Openly looking Tala up and down, from head to toe and back again, he met Tala's unimpressed glared with a cocky grin.

"So, come here often?"

"Michael, just because he has a pulse doesn't mean you have to chat him up. And put your mask back on!"

A woman wearing round glasses and an annoyed expression walked over, clipboard in hand. Next to Steven's bulky frame she looked even smaller than she actually was, though her stance alone made it clear who was in charge here.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Michael rolled his eyes and pulled up his mask.

"Just making friendly conversation. You know, welcoming the new kid?" he said.

Giving him an infuriated look, the woman turned to Tala, her blue eyes softening, and held out a hand.

"Detective Emily Watson." Gesturing with a tired expression at the leather-wearing redhead, she said, "My supposed partner, Detective Michael Parker. And you've already met Steven."

Michael's eyes twinkled, giving away the grin he was flashing Tala from behind the mask. Steven snorted next to Emily.

"Tala Ivanov." He accepted her offered hand gracefully, though he glared suspiciously at Michael when the man stuck out his hand as well. Tala shook it anyways.

"Steven, go see if Eddie has come up with anything in the bedroom. And take Michael with you," Emily said.

"I saw him first."

"Love is fleeting," she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes behind the wide frames.

Chuckling and rolling his shoulders, Michael strutted off after Steven, unable to resist tossing a wink at Tala.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to him … in a few years," Emily said. Poking Tala with the edge of her clipboard, she steered him forward. "This way."

Two more men were in the small kitchen, picking through food wrappers and Styrofoam boxes, depositing samples that interested them into plastic bags. They looked up when Emily and Tala entered. Handing Emily a list of their finds so far, they exited.

"Enjoy," one of them grumbled as they walked out.

Each burner on the grease-splattered stovetop had a dirty pot or pan on it, food still caked in them. Used plates and utensils were everywhere, along with empty cans and jars and fast food take-out bags. The beer and soda bottles that littered the floor clacked together loudly he and Emily waded inside. The sound startled the cockroaches that had greedily emerged after the two men had left. There was a loud crunch as Emily accidentally stepped on a roach, but she barely acknowledged it, her eyes following a trail of dripped sauces, soups and crumbs of food across the floor that the pests were feasting on.

The kitchen table stood in the centre of the room, covered in soiled paper plates, bits of half-eaten sandwiches, potatoes, rice cakes, soup, donuts and other junk food. From the crusty nature of the food remains it was clear that they had been there for at least a day, if not more.

Slumped across the table, face down in a plate of spaghetti, was Gary Gao.

Two plastic lawn chairs strained under his dead weight, his massive thighs spilling over the sides. A bulging stomach practically reached the ground while a flabby arm dangled over the edge of the table. His other fist still gripped a fork. He wore nothing but boxers and a dirty white undershirt with food stains down the front.

"Tala."

He jumped, unaware that he'd just been standing there, staring.

"Sorry, it's ... "

"It's always a shocker, seeing your first dead guy. Take a look at these." Even with her slight frame Emily could just barely squeeze between the dead man and the counter. She pointed with her pen to the back of the neck; a couple of strange little half moon-shaped marks dotted the fatty tissue.

"What made them?" Tala asked, studying the bruised indentions. "The muzzle of a gun?"

"Could be."

"Looks like he's been ... like this for a few days. I wonder, why didn't anyone notice his lack of activity around the building? A recluse?"

Emily nodded in confirmation.

"Neighbours say he was a nice guy, but very private."

"Nobody from work missed him?"

"No one here could name a workplace, or even a profession, but he paid the rent every month, on time, so he was employed somewhere."

" ... Does he have a record?"

"First thing we checked," Emily said. "He was a good citizen with a clean record. Anything he earned, he earned legit. You think this could be gang-related?"

"It's a bad neighbourhood," Tala pointed out, "but if he really was the quiet, gentle giant the others make him out to be, and he's never broken the law ... Who killed him, and why?"

"I think it's obvious _what_ killed him" a voice drawled. Michael appeared in the doorway. "Just look at this guy! He was a coronary waiting to happen."

"There was nothing natural about this death," Tala said, kneeling down to look beneath the table. Coarse rope had been cruelly tied around the swollen purple ankles, having cut off circulation long before the man had passed away. "He was bound."

"Kinky," Michael said. "Feeding fetish gone wrong then?"

"Michael," Emily said sharply.

"No disrespect for the deceased, but I still don't see why we're here. We've already got the dead lawyer case from last week on our plates. We've searched the entire apartment and there's nothing. Not a word," Michael insisted.

Steven and a tall, dark-skinned man with a piercing in one ear appeared behind Michael.

"He's right, Emily," the black officer said, leaning against the doorway. "Hate to say it, but I'm with Mikey on this one: I don't think it's the same thing."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Eddie," Michael said.

"It might be a murder, but it's not our murderer," Eddie went on. "This guy could have gotten involved in some bizarre sex ring, had someone tie him up and feed him, overdid it, and died. Freaked, the other person just hightailed it out of the apartment without notifying anyone."

"If there was another person we should be able to some fingerprint samples in here," Steven said.

"I say we leave this to another team, get out of this dump, and get some coffee. Whatcha say, Tala?" Michael asked, though Emily was the one who answered, shortly.

While those two squabbled back and forth, Tala inched his way back around the body, almost slipping on a glob of yogurt. Eddie joined him, also pensively looking at the strange marks on the back of Gao's bald head.

"Eddie Jackson," he introduced himself polite.

"Tala Ivanov. Has the body been moved?"

"No." Guessing where Tala was heading with this, Eddie shrugged. "I'll take the shoulders."

Placing a hand on either side of the head while Eddy gripped the broad, fleshy shoulders, Tala counted to three and they both pulled, arms straining under the sheer weight of the dead body. They were finally able to pull him up high enough for gravity to do its work. The body slumped against the chairs, which threatened to break under the readjusted weight.

" ... Damn," Eddie gasped, his lanky body tensing as he stepped back, sending bottles scattering and catching his bickering colleagues' attention.

Tala hadn't moved from where he stood right next to the corpse, staring directly into the swollen, purple face. Orange pasta sauce was smeared across the mouth and cheeks, mixed with dark red blood that had seeped from his mouth, nose and …

Michael whistled from the doorway.

"My bad. It's definitely sick enough to be the same guy."

Emily leaned over.

"His eyes … just like Ginko last week."

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't have to as they could all plainly see what was amiss. Empty eye sockets stared up at them. Veins and bone remained at the back of the hollowed gaps, but the eyes themselves had been crudely removed; carved right out of their sockets.

"That was pretty gutsy," Michael said, coming to stand next to where Tala was talking into his recorder. "Leave it to the Russians to get right down to business."

"I was brought here to do a job," Tala replied, hoping his voice didn't give away that the sight hadn't left him completely unfazed.

"Uh-huh," Michael said, eyes following a cockroach as it skittered in between containers. "Don't worry, though. Anything happens, I'll protect you."

"Do I look like a damsel-in-distress?" Tala asked frostily.

"Just trying to be friendly. We're gonna be colleagues from now on, aren't we?" Michael tugged at his cap, still watching the wandering cockroach. "Besides, I've gotta make my move before … Hang on."

Everyone looked up at the change in tone as Michael's voice, which had gone from relaxed to dead serious. The cockroach he'd been keeping an eye on had scuttle out of sight beneath the leaky fridge.

"Roaches tend to do that, Michael," Emily said, using her gloved finger to gently pry the corpse's mouth further open. "Hiding is second nature to them."

Michael walked over to the fridge and used his foot to push aside the rubbish. He paused, then pointed down at the floor.

"Yeah, but can a roach do that?"

Shallow grooves had been dug into the old linoleum before the fridge. Twisting his cap backwards, Michael pushed some junk with his foot. Leaning over the counter, he peered behind the fridge.

"There's something on the wall back here! Someone moved this thing, and recently: the grooves are still clean, unlike the rest of the floor. Ed, give me a hand with this."

With some effort the two men pulled the fridge away from the wall.

"We got a winner," Michael finally surrendered. "This _is_ a homicide and it's the _same_ killer."

"I knew it," Emily said, pulling out a digital camera to snap pictures of the greasy word that had been smeared onto the wall.

**GLUTTONY**

"Just like in Ginko's office," Emily said.

Steven moved aside as six men came in with the largest body bag Tala had ever seen and a gurney that didn't look like it would be able to support the body.

"Michael, Steven, Eddie, there has to be someone in this building that knows more about this man. Find them and get every last bit of information out of them."

"Yes, ma'am," Steven said while Eddie lazily saluted.

"I'd rather get something to eat," Michael sighed. "This is going to be a long night."

"If you're that hungry, help yourself," Tala said, holding at a mouldy box of doughnuts.

"Point taken," Michael said, balking at the suggestion but slinging an arm around Tala's shoulders. "Though we could get some grub later, if you want."

"Let's get going, Romeo," Eddie said, grabbing the other's arm and tugging him out of the kitchen. "See you guys back at headquarters."

"I don't think I'll ever get used to him," Tala said to Emily as they last left the kitchen, leaving more room for the experts to figure out how they were going to get the massive corpse down the treacherous stairs.

"He kinda grows on you in due time, like fungus. He's a player, but I admit I admire his dedication. He's a good detective, and a good enough person."

Out in the hall Tala breathed in the fresh air appreciatively. The police tape had been removed to allow for the gurney to come through earlier. Tattered yellow remains floated in the faint draft as they descended the stairwell.

"So, what do you think of your first real crime scene?" Emily suddenly asked.

"Memorable," Tala said. "A pretty strong indication how different the real world is from the controlled environment of a classroom or training facility or supervised fieldwork."

"Well, for someone who hasn't even received any degree yet, you conduct yourself very professionally," Emily said, her long ponytail swinging from side to side with every step. "The Captain mentioned that you were the best in your year, but I wasn't expecting you to show this level of maturity and collectiveness."

Tala smiled uncomfortably at the compliment.

"I was only allowed to come here because Bryan is convinced I have a lot to offer."

"On a first name basis with the Captain?" Emily asked with a raised brow.

"We go back," Tala said plainly, looking at his feet as they walked. "Known each other since we were teens."

"Captain's in his early thirties. That's a pretty long time. He never mentioned you, though."

Tala covered up the falter in his steps by pretending to wipe something off his shoes.

"We sort of lost contact when he moved to Japan."

"Captain Balcov is as sharp as a needle, and to the point. If he's put this much faith in you, then you must be really something." She patted his arm encouragingly. "Do you want to make a quick stop at a coffee shop? Station coffee isn't strong enough and Michael will be more agreeable once he gets a few properly brewed litres into his system."

Nodding, Tala followed her out the building and it was decided that they would take his car.

"University funds all its kidnapped students so well?" she asked, walking around the sleek vehicle.

"It's a loan," Tala said evasively, opening all the locks.

People were still milling around on the street. Having heard that a body had been found, they were probably loitering in morbid hopes of catching a glimpse of it as it was wheeled out. Following Emily's directions to the coffee shop, Tala listened to her as she explained the next steps in this new investigation.

Being an experienced detective meant that she could cope better with the scene they had just abandoned. As he listened to Emily he admired her ability to detach herself from the crime, just as Steven had advised him. Despite having been praised for his 'professional' handling of the situation, Tala felt a cold seep down his back every time he thought of the overfed, eyeless body in the festering kitchen.

Tbc …

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Read & Review, please.


	2. January 11: Greed

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

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_**Tuesday, January 11**__**th**__**, 2004. **_

_**Time: 10.10 **_

A stack of files was suddenly dropped on the desk right before him with a loud thud, startling Tala.

"Thank you," he said, reaching for the top file, only to have his hand grabbed.

"No problem," Michael said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

He patiently waited until his hand was released. If the last two hours spent with the American had taught Tala one thing it was words like 'no', 'go away' and 'not interested' did not have the desired effects on him. But Tala was getting used to the invasion of space and sly innuendoes. And Emily had been right: overall, Michael was harmless, and a hard worker, when he wasn't hanging around Tala, fetching things for him, bringing in as many files on the case as he could pilfer.

"So, solved the case yet, Red?" Michael asked as Tala shifted through photos.

"No, but they are definitely related, that's for sure. Both murders are so similarly elaborate it cannot just be a coincidence," Tala said. He ignored the nickname, though personally he thought it ridiculous that Michael, who's hair was only a few shades darker than his, kept calling him that. "The writing on the wall ... the killer could have just as well put out a billboard ad. Then again, that's clearly what he wants: he wants us to know he's doing this."

"He? Could be a woman. Don't underestimate female strength." Michael rubbed his jaw, as if soothing an old ache. "They can pack quite a punch. And billboard ads are way too expensive these days."

"Unless she's a world-class bodybuilder, or a female sumo wrestler, it's hard to imagine a woman possessing the strength needed to force Gary Gao into those binds. It could have also been a whole group, men and women, but the other tenants would have noticed all that traffic, especially around Gao's apartment, seeing how he was known as a loner. One person, however, could have slipped in and out easily and quietly."

"The weakest, most pathetic nerd in school can bring everyone to their knees if he starts waving a gun around," Michael said, spinning a pencil on the desk. "Something made those bruises on the back of Gao's neck: he would have consented to being tied up with a gun in his face. Probably thought it was a burglar; went along with the restraints cause he thought he'd survive it."

"What could he possibly own that's worth stealing?" Tala argued. "The place was a dump."

"That whole neighbourhood is a dump. Someone who was worse off than Gao, desperate, aware that Gao at least had rent money at the end of every month."

"Money which Gao no longer had seeing as it's the beginning of the month."

"They had yet to estimate the exact time of death."

"The landlord confirmed that Gao paid his December rent. What kind of burglar would kill a man for his money, rob him, then neatly pay his bills for him? ... You're testing me again, aren't you?" he asked suspiciously. "Why are we even talking about burglary?"

Michael laughed.

"Wanna see for myself how good you are. It still hasn't sunk in yet, that we've got a student on the case."

"Distracting me with pointless theorization isn't helping the case."

"Just making sure to keep you on your toes. And you should never exclude alternative scenarios," Michael said, more seriously. "It's good to focus, but don't get too narrow-minded. Always keep your eye on the bigger picture; don't obsess too much over minor details."

"Words of wisdom from my senior?" Michael said, dropping in the chair opposite the desk, leaning back to place his feet up.

"Friendly advice."

Deciding that this had gone on for long enough, Tala returned to the paperwork.

"One detail we have to examine is his calling card," Tala said. "He's not just leaving his signature behind at each murder, but most likely also his motive. It's like ... Doesn't it seem as though he's preaching?"

"Haven't been to church since I was a kid, but I do remember one thing about preaches: they are long, and dull. Okay, that's two things. Our guy just left behind a random word at each murder."

"Not random," Tala insisted. "Gluttony clearly refers to Gao's lifestyle."

"But why 'gluttony'?" Michael countered pensively. "Who even uses that word? Could have just written 'pig' or 'fatso' or even 'I survived anorexia' on that wall. He's commenting on Gao, but in what way? ... What word did he leave at the Ginko murder scene again?"

"'Greed'," Tala said, picking up the report he'd been reading before Michael walked in. "These files are thick. Kevin Gink must have been a very popular guy in the media for his murder to get so much attention."

Michael scoffed, nabbing a doughnut from the box on the desk.

"Why wouldn't it? It was fucking brutal. And Ginko wasn't so much popular as he was infamous. Personally, he sorta had it coming, unlike Gao. I mean, what type of guy spends his days defending criminals, getting them back onto the streets, and can then sleep peacefully at night? I'm just saying," Michael shrugged, holding up his hands peacefully at Tala's disapproving look. "Murder is murder, so I'm not condoning the killing, but while I want to catch this killer I sure as hell don't waste time feeling sorry for Ginko."

"Every man is innocent until proven guilty. Everyone, including criminals, have the right to a lawyer. Ginko was only doing his job."

"He was only doing his job to get money. Ginko didn't give a rat's ass about human rights and justice," Michael insisted. "I can tell you, no one here shed a tear when he died. We'd bust our asses hunting down murderers, rapists and thieves, and he'd make them out to be little lost boys and girls who simply made a mistake. Man, it would be bitter sweet if the murderer turns out to be someone he defended in the past."

"If so then the killer isn't a grateful client," Tala mused. "Electrocuting a man who spared you a lifetime in prison is a sick way of saying thanks, to put it lightly. Ginko had been subjected to hours of electric shocks before he finally … "

"Fried," Michael supplied crassly.

"No matter who he was, that was a horrible way to die, getting the life zapped out of you. And according to the autopsy, his eyes had been gouged out. Imagine spending the last few hours of your life blind and being effectively burned to death."

"Possibly days," Michael said. "Ginko was found dead in his office January 3rd, the first day the firm opened again after the holidays. But he was last seen alive on December 30st. Colleagues said it wasn't unusual for him to stay after hours, working. He didn't attend the party that was held that night, or the dinner at a friend's house on the 2nd. When the cleaners came in early in the morning on the 3rd they found his body in his office, where he'd last been seen alive."

"Which means the killer must have gained access to the building on the 31st, during opening hours, when he'd be the least conspicuous among all the other people walking around. He could have found a place to lay low until after office hours, somehow gave the security the slip, and found his way into Ginko's office. Could have been hours, could have been days, but he eventually killed Ginko and then managed to leave the building undetected."

"Unless we're talking about a vengeful spirit, there's no way someone could have snuck in and out of that office without the security cameras noticing them: those things are on 24/7. I actually sat through the entire viewing and at no point does someone suspicious enter the office. The last person seen leaving the office was a client of Ginko's, and Ginko himself accompanied the guy to the door, so he was alive and well at the time. Ginko never left his office afterwards. A night watchman patrolled the hall every hour, and seeing how he never checked in on Ginko it's assumed he figured Ginko, like everyone else, had already left. During interrogations he specifically reported having not heared any sounds coming from that office. There's still the rumour that Ginko killed himself because of poor business. Bullshit. He was the most sought-after defence lawyer in the country: his client list was so full he had a couple of stand-by lists on the side."

"That, and there's no way he could have tied himself up and then electrocuted himself."

"Problem is, we haven't found a single foreign fingerprint yet. We quickly ruled out the fingerprints belonging to Ginko, his clients, colleagues, acquaintances, etc. Everyone has strong alibis that prove they weren't present at the time of the killing. The only prints we haven't found yet is the killer's."

"A body, a murder weapon, and this," Tala said, picking up a crime scene photograph in which the word had been burnt into the carpet before the desk:

**GREED**

"Body and murder weapon: two out of three. You'd think it'd be easy," Michael said, suppressing a yawn as he stared into his empty coffee mug.

"If Ginko was his first victim, then I'd expect there to be one more piece of evidence."

"Why?"

"Like I said before, he's preaching," Tala explained, trying to piece things together as he went along. "He's … He could well be walking us through his reasons, for a better lack of description. He wrote at Ginko's crime scene 'greed', and at Gao's 'gluttony'. If he's going to such lengths to label each killing, I'd have thought he'd start his … let's call it a sermon, with something of an introduction."

"We'll learn all about that once we catch him and beat the truth and shit out of him." Craning his neck to read the clock, Michael groaned, rubbing his eyes. "I haven't slept in the last 36 hours! I just want to go home and get some shuteye."

Taking in the similar exhausted look on Tala's face, Michael cocked his head and Tala knew another come on was on its way.

"Someone who can look so hot yet tired at the same time is a real turn on, you know," Michael said. "When was the last time you shut those baby blues?"

"I slept a couple of hours on the plane," Tala answered nonchalantly, said blue eyes fixed on the photographed corpse of the lawyer.

Michael draped his tall form over the back of Tala's chair and, taking hold of his chin, tilted Tala's head back.

"You must be drained. How about coming over to my place for some R&R? We could watch a game and have a drink or two."

"I though you said you wanted to go to bed."

A mischievous grin lit up the American's face as Michael leaned in.

"Well, if you're that eager … "

"Oh, give it a rest, Michael!"

Emily closed door behind her with a deep frown. The skin beneath her eyes looked dark but the eyes themselves still had the power to peal Michael off Tala and silently order him back into the chair. Michael twisted his cap around and grinned broadly, which managed to get a long suffering smile out of Emily.

"You were able to find anything new?" Tala asked, noticing the papers she held.

A mixed look of affirmation and bemusement flitted over the bespectacled woman's face as she gratefully accepted Michael's chair—which he quickly offered when he noticed her almost shuffled steps—while he settled back on the edge of the desk, looking intrigued as Emily rubbed her head lightly before pulling out her notepad from beneath the papers. Her fingers skimmed through pages for a moment before settling on a page.

"His name was Gary Gao, age 35. Born in China, he moved to Japan in 1992. He worked as a cook in a small bar/restaurant downtown for a few years, but eventually was forced to stop working due to health complications. Survived two heart attacks in the past, and his weight meant he suffered from weak joints, fatigue and breathing complications. No wife or kids, but he has family back in China. Here in Japan people knew him to be a good guy; a bit on the slow side, but not an evil bone in his body. He has no police records, and never bothered his neighbours."

Michael was pouring out a cup of coffee a few feet away, but Tala could tell that he too was mulling over the facts. Unlike with Kevin Ginko, here was a victim who was completely innocent, as far as they could tell.

"Autopsy report came in a few minutes ago. Of course, we're also testing for any drug abuse or poisoning, but those results won't be in for some time. What we can tell, so far, is that Michael was right," Emily said, earning puzzled looks from both men, and a mildly insulted one from Michael at the implication that him getting something right every now and then was a rarity. "He ate himself to death."

"You're kidding," Michael said, walking back over to hand her a steaming mug.

"Actually, he was forced to overeat to the point of losing consciousness. It seems that, when he could no longer eat, his killer then kicked or punched him in the side repeatedly until his stomach, already stretched and strained with food, ruptured. Gao died from internal bleeding.

"Just like with Ginko, the killer took his time," Michael said.

"But why?"

"Why?" Michael echoed, turning to Tala, who sat frowning. "Not to borrow Ginko's favourite excuse, but perhaps because he's mental? Angry with society? Borrowed money from them and got angry when they never paid him back. That could explain him labelling Ginko as greedy."

Tala shook his head, knowing that he was on to something.

"If you want someone dead, you simply shoot or stab them; you don't take the time like he did. He's trying to say something; to his victims, to the police force, and to the general public, as the media is sure to find out about those words sooner or later." He looked up to find that both Michael and Emily were watching him closely. It made him self-conscious, having two veterans evaluating him. Picking his words very carefully, he went on. "Words aren't enough for him. He's not just preaching: he's _practicing_. He's enforcing what he has to say through these murders. He knows what he wants to say, so then he must know exactly how many murders it will take until he gets the message across. He's already chosen those he believes need to die to prove his point. Not only who, but when and where. All he's allowing us to figure out is _why_. If we know why, then maybe that will reveal who's doing it."

He fell silent, pleased with his revelatory walkthrough, but also very disturbed by what he'd just said, both because it had all come to him a bit too quickly, as if he would have done the exact same thing if he'd been the killer, and because his conclusion was pretty much that this killer had complete control over the situation.

Both Americans took his reasoning seriously. Emily, who'd noted it down while Tala had been talking, was reading it over and over again with a darkening look in her eyes, as if each revision made the theory sound more and more plausible.

Michael had a whole different way of digesting the news.

"Well, fuck!" he broke out, rising and pacing the office, removing his cap to run a hand through the unruly red hair. "If so then … Well, fuck it."

A sharp knock on the door broke through Michael's swearing as a tall, pale man let himself inside, staring at the American with an amused expression. All three rose to their tired feet as Captain Bryan Balcov closed the door behind him, carrying a white folder of his own.

'He still looks the same,' Tala thought, surprised at how big a shock it was to see the man again after so many years.

"I was going to wish you all good morning, but I supposed that would be a wasted wish," Bryan said as Michael composed himself with an embarrassed shrug. Bryan took notice of Emily slightly swaying on her feet. He looked at the papers in her arms. "Your reports?"

"Not done yet, but I will have them on your desk by this afternoon," she answered, wiping the large lenses of her glasses on her blouse, trying to look more professional and less exhausted.

"Get some rest first," Bryan said, tossing his badge onto Tala's desk and removing his jacket. "No point in working if you're too tired to even stand. We can't afford to make mistakes, Watson. Just make sure to get those reports on my desk first thing tomorrow morning, alright?"

"Thank you, sir," Emily said, nodding gratefully. "You need anything else?"

"Actually, I'm here to talk to Tala," Bryan said, making Tala sit up straighter at his tone of voice. "I'm the one who had him sent here, but in all the excitement of last night I haven't had a moment to even greet him yet."

Bryan didn't have to say more. Emily caught the silent request and pulled Michael out of the office with her. Both of them nodded in parting but Michael also tossed in a wink in Tala's direction, which made him roll his eyes at the American's audacity in the presence of their boss.

"Popular as always, Tala," Bryan said, taking the chair Emily had vacated.

"Michael Parker will chase anything that walks on two legs, so that's hardly a compliment, sir," Tala said, sitting down as well but not feeling as comfortable as the other.

"Then this entire station must be full of lechers because, next to the murders, you're the hottest topic right now." Bryan paused, watching him. "Can't believe it's been six years since we last spoke face to face."

"Why me, sir?" Tala asked bluntly, staying on his guard. "I'll be graduating within about a year's time, but even then I don't have an ounce of experience. Of all the people you could have brought in to assist with the investigation, why did you send for me? You already have a team of seasoned detectives working here. What good will I do?"

Bryan quickly picked up on his chilly attitude. He nodded, confirming for himself that Tala's reaction wasn't undeserved, and got down to business.

"I have full confidence in this team. You're not here to do Detective Watson and the others' job. You're good, but you still have a lot to learn. Right now you're relying on quick wits and adaptability, not knowledge, aren't you?"

Tala nodded. It was pointless to lie: Bryan knew him too well.

"So, if I'm not here to work on the Ginko and Gao cases ... "

"Oh, you're on the case, but I have a special assignment for you. Our guy is a novelty to us all. No one has ever seen anything like these murders. There seems to be a scheduled time frame in the making—one murder per week—but after just two murders we can't know for sure. We don't know who is doing, and we don't know why. And that's where you come in."

"If no one here knows what to make of him, what makes you think I can?"

"You can't," Bryan said bluntly, not trying to sugar coat that fact. He held up the dossier he had brought along. "However, with some help and a lot of luck, we might be able to recruit someone who _can_ understand the killer's mind."

"Why do you need me to find an expert? You have all the connections."

"The person I have in mind is ... not exactly listed in the phone books. Think, Tala. Even the most experienced, most respected criminal behaviour experts are limited in their understanding of a killer's mind because they are, like us, normal, non-murderous human beings. No matter how much any of us try to understand murderers, we can't, because our minds can't fully grasp and emphasize with the workings of a mind that condones slaughter. So, I figured … " Bryan handed the dossier to Tala. "We fight fire with fire. Combat a sociopathic mind with an even more depraved, yet also more intelligent, one."

Tala read the words printed on the dossier:

TOKYO INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE

Already thrown off , Tala did a double take when he read the name printed in smaller letters beneath that:

PATIENT 70GT1119: HIWATARI, KAI

" … Kai Hiwatari?" Tala stared at his superior as if the man himself had gone insane. A feeling not unlike his first reaction to seeing Gao's corpse washed over him, only this time it was tinged with blood-curdling fear. "We are going to ask for help from _Kai Hiwatari_? One murderer is already giving you trouble, and now you want to bring in the worst of the lot?"

"I won't be giving him his own desk and office," Bryan said, unfazed. "He'll stay where he is. We won't be giving him anything in return; no clemency or special treatment. I could fly in experts from every corner of the globe, but why do that when we've got Hiwatari? To a mind like his, our killer should be no more difficult to solve than math problems in a 1st grade elementary."

In theory, it wasn't that farfetched an idea, but to carry it out ...

"Alright, it's a possibility," Tala admitted. "Have you sent someone to the asylum yet?"

Bryan stared at him without answering.

"_Me_? You want me to try and negotiate a deal with Kai Hiwatari?!" Tala asked incredulously. Were it not for Bryan's suddenly serious face Tala would have thought the other had been joking. "This guy has been examined and interviewed by the world's leading psychologists and researchers. I'm just a student. Compared to those who have studied and talked to him, I'm a nobody—"

"Exactly," Bryan said triumphantly, rising to walk over to the window. He looked out at the traffic down below for a while. "We had less spectacular but equally challenging murder case a year or so ago and someone suggested we try and enlist Hiwatari's help. Knowing the dangers, we did a thorough evaluation and sent the best guy for the job. We used to call him Rocky, because nothing affected him. Once he was onto something, nothing could get in his way. Rocky had been a part of the force for over thirty years. He'd been shot ten times during his career, and had grappled with the meanest mafia members, and caught several infamous gang leaders."

Tala had a sinking suspicion where this was going when he heard Bryan sigh.

"Fifteen minutes," the Captain said, still staring outside. "Rocky lasted just fifteen minutes. Even though Hiwatari could lay a finger on him, he broke Rocky as if he were cheap Chinaware. Were it not for the asylum guards' intervention after fifteen minutes ... Rocky broke, Tala. I saw the surveillance tape. He just ... shattered, mentally. He tried to mount a strong offence to beat down Hiwatari, and was squashed within minutes. Lives with his family now, since he cannot enough tie his shoes anymore."

Tala rested his elbows on the desk and his brow on his clasped hands. He stared at the name on the file before him. That name alone was enough to make him shiver. Even without the sad tale of Officer Rocky's downward spiral into insanity, Tala would have been hesitant—maybe even adamant—about accepting this assignment. The Ginko and Gao murders had been gruesome, but Hiwatari … That name alone was practically synonymous with Death itself in most parts of the world, especially in Japan and Russia.

"Bryan," he said, dropping all formality to make his doubts perfectly clear, "if one of your best men cracked like an eggshell in fifteen minutes, I won't last five. You might as well just take a baseball bat to my head and spare me the experience."

"Hiwatari is a curious individual. Before his crimes, he was dedicated to his studies, to learning. A mind like that, however, becomes easily bored with the mundane," Bryan finally began to explain, turning away from the window. "He does not like wasting his time on things that bore him. For the past five years Hiwatari has been studied under close surveillance by both the asylum and a select group of outsiders. His only contact has been with elite and honoured people who are outstanding in their respective fields. We might be impressed, but he has grown indifferent towards such people."

"Or he just keeps himself amused by driving them insane."

"Hiwatari is unreadable, but it's clear he's developed a condescending dislike towards the experts, maybe because he sneers at their beliefs that they can decode him. As if to prove his superiority, and to disprove their beliefs, he breaks them.

"But you, Tala, you are a student. Just a student. You're not someone who has the experience to dare to outtalk or outsmart him. You're not (yet) a law enforcer, or a behavioural expert, or a researcher trying to boost his credibility by taking on the infamous Hiwatari. You're not one of them, one of _us_ not a part of the system that bores him so much."

"What you're basically getting to is that, since I'm someone new to him, Hiwatari will not be easily bored talking to me, so chances are good that he won't try to reduce me to a vegetable," Tala concluded.

"Pretty much, although with Hiwatari it is always a matter of give and take: indulge his curiosity and he will return the favour." Bryan walked up to the desk, planted his hands on the surface, and leaned right in to look Tala directly in the eyes. "But please keep this in mind, Tala: do _not_ let him in. Do not give him anything he could use to his advantage. If he asks you anything personal, keep it as short and non-descriptive as possible."

"I don't think I can do this," Tala said after a long pause, shaking his head and looking away as Bryan remained where he was. "That you even thought I could handle this is flattering, but ... I'm not willing to put this case, and my life, in jeopardy. Sorry, sir. You'd better ask someone else."

"Tala, look at me."

Slowly, he obeyed and a hand grasped his shoulder.

"I_ know_ you," Bryan said in a low, no-nonsense voice. "You're adaptable, Tala. You can change your way of thinking fast enough to adapt to new situations. The others were overwhelmed because they were too specialized; they knew only one method, which had worked well for them throughout the years, and, like I said, such angles bore Hiwatari. But you're still learning, and you still experiment with ideas and theories. An important trick when dealing with Hiwatari is the ability to keep up with him, no matter how often he switches tactics. I know you can do this, Tala. I'd _never_ put you in danger."

Tala sat in silence, staring at the crime scene photos Bryan had unintentionally shuffled. He blinked out of his thoughts when Bryan's hand came to rest on his clenched fist. It was the first true contact they'd had in years; the first time he'd felt Bryan's skin on his in a very long time.

"Tala," Bryan said softly, making their eyes meet. "If you really aren't comfortable about doing this, I won't force you. Turn it down, and you can return to Russia, no harm done, no hard feelings. Just know that I am willing to bet my lifesavings that you're the right choice for the job."

" … How much is your lifesavings worth?"

Bryan scoffed but picked up on the accord hidden behind the jibe.

"I knew I could count on you," he said. "Keep those files: no one's ever been able to compose a complete and solid report on Hiwatari, but every little piece of information helps. Though it may be expecting too much for your first time, also take the questionnaire along with you, in case Hiwatari feels inexplicable generous and agrees to start right away on the case."

They shared disbelieving smirks at the possibility of that happening.

"Better safe that sorry," Tala shrugged as he placed the dossier into his bag. "I can't just walk in there and up to his cell, though."

"I'll arrange an appointment," Bryan said without missing a beat. "Usually it takes longer to secure a meeting with Hiwatari, if it's even ever granted, but I'll just pull a few strings here and there and talk directly to Dr Balcov, the director."

"Balcov? As in, family of yours?" Tala asked, aware that he didn't know Bryan as well as the man knew him.

"My uncle, Boris," Bryan admitted with a scowl, as if the name along aggravated him beyond measures. "I must have shown you a family photo of him once, years ago. He's not one of my favourites, but family is family, I guess. However, he isn't to know why you are really there."

"Why not?"

"He's selfish, possessive and very territorial. He's prizes the fact that he has Kai Hiwatari. I've heard it's a prevailing topic in any conversation one has with him, as if he single-handedly caught Hiwatari himself. In his mind, he pretty much owns Hiwatari."

"Did you ever consider asking your uncle himself to carry out this assignment?" Tala asked just out of curiosity. "After five years, he probably knows Hiwatari the best, and knows how to deal with him. Wouldn't he be able to extract any helpful information?"

Bryan laughed with almost cruel amusement.

"He won't shut up about having Hiwatari, but ask my uncle whether he's learned anything about his most prized patient and it shuts him up at once. He's tried. God knows he's done everything in his power to figure Hiwatari out, and to this day he's no more wiser than when Hiwatari was first handed over to him. Of all the people he holds in contempt, Boris is the one person Hiwatari must hate the most right now. Ever the professional, Boris seems to have adopted the admirable if-I-can't-have-him-no-one-can stance. It's been a while since he's allowed anyone to talk to Hiwatari, but I know how to get around that obstacle."

"So, you're going to lie to your own uncle."

"Anything that will help put our mystery killer behind bars." Bryan picked up his jacket and badge. "Besides, if we pull this off and catch this guy, we'll hand him over to my uncle—there's no way a court would rule our newest killer as sane—so Boris would have _two_ famous maniacs to gloat about. We'd be doing him a big favour, even though he doesn't deserve one. Not a word about the real reason for your meetings, am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good." Bryan stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll try to get an appointment for tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off. You're going to need as much rest as you can get before dealing with Hiwatari."

Tala agreed. Organizing the mass of papers on his desk, he took a few key files with him to go through once he got back to his place. Bryan was leaning against the door to hold it open for him, but Tala didn't go through.

"What?" Bryan asked.

"There isn't another reason why you've brought me here, is there?" Tala asked with thinly veiled suspicion, and caution. "When you chose me, you were only thinking about this assignment, right?"

Shifting his eyes uncomfortably, Bryan finally sighed.

"I _do_ believe that this is something you can do … " His eyes shifted again. "It's been years, Tala. After all this time apart … I thought that if we were closer we could … "

"That's not going to happen," Tala said plainly and walked out the door, only to be pulled back inside.

"Tala, even after all these years!" Bryan said softly but forcefully, almost desperately. He ran his knuckles along the curve of Tala's jaw, then ran his fingers through the red hair. His eyes lost focus for a moment, remembering what Tala had fought so hard to forget. "Nothing has changed after all these years. I still love you, and I know you still love me. I'm the one who fucked up, and you're the one who ended up getting hurt the most. You believe me when I say that I never meant to do it, don't you?"

Tala forced the Captain step back with a firm push to the chest.

"You would do everything for me," he said, keeping his voice strong with much effort. "You fought for me. I was always afraid that you'd go too far one day and end up killing someone in order to protect me. I know you'd never willingly do something to hurt me, Bryan … But you did, and somehow, that's what scared me the most. It was an accident, but accidents can happen again and again, and I'm not about ready to put myself through another one. So just … back off, please, _sir_."

Bryan looked crushed, but he gave Tala some room.

"I don't want things to be like this. I came here hoping that things would be better between us. We started out as friends—why can't we be friends again? Just friends?" Tala asked.

"There's a reason why we didn't stay 'just friends' the first time," Bryan said, clipping his badge unto the breast of his jacket. He then reached past Tala and put his hand on the door handle, which brought them once again in close proximity of each other. "It's never enough to be 'just friends' with you."

His hand drifted from the handle to Tala's side. Tala tensed when Bryan leaned in, his lips whispering against his. For a moment, he panicked, unsure what to do. One half of him reasoned it was just a kiss, but the other half knew that one kiss wouldn't be the end of it. But he was spared from making the decision when Bryan shifted at the last minute and kissed him on the cheek instead. The hand on his waist grabbed his hand, giving it a firm shake.

"Given the situation, I guess it would be for the best if we kept things on a professional level," Bryan admitted, smiling. "Welcome to the team, Officer Ivanov."

Unable to hide his relief entirely, Tala smiled back.

"I'm glad to be here, Captain."

"Then, as your boss, I have just one last thing say concerning the romance department."

"And that is … ?" Tala asked, growing grim again.

"Mind yourself around Parker. This is the first time that playboy has willingly remained so long in the station. I bet you the moment he hears you've left he'll be nowhere to be found. I think you've got yourself a loyal retriever here."

"Speaking of dogs," Tala said, not taking the warning too seriously, "I brought Wolborg with me."

"How's he doing?" Bryan asked as they left the office.

"Great. You definitely won't be able to pick him up and carry him around anymore, but I'm sure he'll remember you. Even for a dog, he's too bright. Kinda freaks me out sometimes. I think I'll swing by the grocers on my way home to buy him some food."

"Need a ride?" Michael came up behind them, respectfully tipping his head to Bryan as he casually slung an arm around Tala's shoulders. "Sorry if I'm interrupting anything, but I couldn't help overhearing your conversation."

"I have my own car," Tala said, noting the gleam in Bryan's eyes at Michael's hands-on greeting. Detangling himself, Tala then found himself relieved of his bag as the American chivalrously took it from him.

"All you had to do was ask. I'll walk you there," he offered.

Bryan muttered something about Americans in Russian, half-annoyed, half-amused.

"Uh, thanks," was all Tala could say to Michael's assistance.

"Before you go," Bryan took him by the arm, pulling him aside. "I don't think we'll see each other again before you meeting with Hiwatari tomorrow. I will fax you the story I'll give Boris tonight. The asylum has its own strict rules on dealing with the patients: do _not_ stray from them. Do _not_ let your guard down for a second. No matter how well it's going, stay alert and keep your distance. If you don't think you can get Hiwatari, then back away. Just don't … let him get into your head. Understood?"

Tala nodded sharply and stepped back, only to be enveloped in an embrace from behind.

"I'm glad you're here," Bryan whispered in his ear. "I missed you."

"Wow. Never saw the Captain _that_ friendly before," Michael teased, approaching Tala's side. The two of them watched as Bryan disappeared down the hall. Even though he was had a wide grin on his face, Michael wasn't very good at hiding his jealousy. "I heard you were friends but I guess 'friends' mean something entirely different in Russia. Looked like he was afraid to let you go, if you ask me."

Suddenly frustrated by Bryan's persistence, Tala took his bag back with an angry jerk.

"No one asked you, Parker. Mind your own business," he said shortly, and left the stunned American standing alone in the hall.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	3. January 12

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Wednesday, January 12**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 09.45**_

Doctor Boris Balcov was a pale man in his late forties, early fifties, whose purple hair was several shades darker than his nephew's. His eyes were as cold and sharp as a butcher's knife; the kind of hard eyes that could practically sear flesh off bone. At the moment, however, they were simply stared at Tala, almost as if trying to see through his clothes. Seated behind a heavy antique desk, Balcov hadn't invited him to take a seat, so he stood there between the two chairs that were meant for guests, like him, waiting for the good doctor to continue the discomforting conversation.

'Pervert,' Tala thought, keeping a neutral face and still unable to believe that this man was in any way related to Bryan.

"If you don't mind my saying, Tala," Balcov said in a slithering voice, forgoing any formality, "I have been running this asylum for almost thirty years. I've met hundreds of people in this office, and thousands more at conventions and lectures. And yet, you are by far the most attractive person I've ever had to pleasure of meeting."

'Lecherous pervert,' Tala wanted to snap, but forced a polite smile and bowed his head. "I am honoured to be here, Doctor Balcov. I was told that you were very wary of allowing journalists access to your patients, let alone someone like myself, who has yet to complete my studies."

Balcov leaned back in his chair, fingers still interlaced.

"Under most circumstances, I don't allow the media into my institute. They'd just spin everything they see and hear into outrageous tales that would only increase the public's misperception of places like this. However, my nephew sent me some of your work and yours is an interesting view on … humans like my patients," he said, as if searching for a more fitting label but coming up short. "You don't wish to demonize them, or to glorify them, but are simply interested in them. Did you bring any of your other pieces with you? We have a lot in common, you and I."

'I doubt that,' Tala thought, but pleased that the fabricated articles had done their job. He pulled out a folder from his bag and held it out for Balcov to take.

Unnecessarily brushing their fingers together as he accepted the offered documents, Boris gave them a preliminary look-through, leaving Tala to stand and wait on his decision.

So far, everything was going smoothly. Sticking to his occupation as a student—but altering his major—had allowed Tala to pose as someone he was already familiar with. With a fake ID and papers, he'd been brought to the director without question, though Balcov wasn't as easily deceived as the guards.

"I see that you made notes in the margins in some of the interviews on your personal opinion of what's being said or done. For a journalist-in-training, you have quite a lot of insight in the criminal mind," Boris pointed out, raised inquiring eyes.

Tala bit his tongue. He'd quickly gone through the fabricated documents that had been handed to him and added some random comments here and there in his own handwriting to make them appear more authentic, but he may have gone too deep into the backgrounds of the false crimes.

"Criminology and the human psyche have always interested me, I must admit. I read up on both as much as my own studies allow," he answered. To cater to the director's own self-importance, he added in an aloof tone, "Perhaps that was why the university agreed to send me on this assignment: they recognize that this is a field that requires a great amount of insight. Anyone can write an article sensationalizing criminals: it takes a lot more to appreciate the challenges of understanding them."

"Indeed," Boris said, flipping thoughtfully through the rest before dropping the folder onto the desk for later consideration "But how is it that it was Bryan, and not your university, who contacted me concerning this interview?"

"To be honest, the university did try to contact you, but they never made it past reception. But I really wanted this interview, so I used my own means. I met Captain Balcov years ago in Russia and I knew you were his uncle so I contacted him hoping he'd be able to … simplify this arrangement. I understand that the two of you aren't on the best of terms, which makes me even more grateful that you still agreed to our meeting."

At this the director smiled as well, though his was forced.

"My dear nephew has sent a few of his men in the past, but I eventually put a stop to police visits as I feared that their mindless interaction with my patient could negatively affect him."

Without indication, Balcov stood up and walked around the desk, pulling on his white coat that had been hanging on the metal coat rack next to the wall of security monitors.

"Have you ever been in Japan before, Tala?" he asked, leading him out of the office.

"No, Dr Balcov," Tala said, keeping his answers short and pretending to be more interested in the empty, sterile hallway. "I only just arrived a few days ago."

"Ah, I see." Balcov sounded pleased. "And have you taken in much of the city yet?"

Tala had seen this coming from a mile off, and he didn't like where it was going.

"My assignment has kept me busy so far."

"Call me Boris. But that is a shame. Tokyo can be a very fun city, if you have the right guide."

"I do not think we share the same tastes, Dr Balcov," Tala replied, his tone already giving the older man his answer.

Balcov backed off for an entire second, but resumed his woeful pickup attempts.

"I would think you'd appeal to every man's taste," he almost purred, giving Tala's shoulder an unprovoked pat, and leaving his hand there.

"But who says every man appeals to _my_ taste?" Tala countered, not hiding the fact that he all but shrugged the hand off him.

It was a bold attitude to have, given how Balcov might have only agreed to this in the hopes of getting a favour in return. But while he was willing to face Hiwatari for the sake of this case, Tala wasn't about to whore himself for it. Not to anyone, and especially not someone like Boris.

"Attractive, intelligent and feisty—you'll get far in life. If Bryan had any common sense he'd groom you, ready you for recruiting the moment you graduate. But intellect has never been that boy's strong point. In fact, would you be interested in working here?"

"I … " Tala was repulsed at the very thought of spending years to come cooped up in this place with Boris Balcov as his boss, leering at him all the time. "I don't think my skills would be of much use here, doctor. I want to be a journalist, to report on things all over the world, not just Japan. You wouldn't have much need for someone like me."

"Oh, I do believe I do." The hand was back again, this time on his other shoulder, meaning Balcov had his arm draped lightly across Tala's back.

Making a mental note to discuss Bryan's uncle with the Captain the moment he got back to the station, Tala could barely manage a smile as he shook his head. It would take a strong shrug to dislodge the more insistent hand now, and as long as it didn't stray any lower Tala forced himself to put up with it, rather than blow his chance after having gotten this far.

The asylum was equipped with the most up-to-date technology, but the building itself was very old. It wasn't easy to tell whether the gothic elements had been there from the beginning or whether they'd just been added to give the place an even creepier effect. Endless halls of smooth floors and white walls, dotted with security cameras, ran on and on everywhere you turned. Solid iron doors muffled the shouts of rowdy inmates while armed guard—all burly men at least six feet tall—patrolled back and forth through the corridors, their eyes hidden behind their helmets' visors. The orderlies, male and female, wore white uniforms and had no weapons to protect themselves. Balcov explained that no worker was allowed anywhere near a patient without at least two guards present.

"Of course, no one is allowed into Hiwatari's cell unless he's been properly restrained," Balcov hastened to add, so eager to praise how dangerous the man was. "And no one other than Spencer and myself are allowed to come within touching distance of Hiwatari."

"Spencer?"

"Hiwatari's caretaker. He delivers the meals and other small indulgences, like books and papers, to Hiwatari. When, for whatever reason, Hiwatari needs to be moved out of his cell, Spencer is the one who enters it first to restrain him, and also the last person to leave the cell once Hiwatari's been returned to it."

"He must be a very brave man."

Tala was impressed by this Spencer's abilities, and his admiration irked Balcov, who could not make such a similar claim about himself. But still, he tried.

"I too hold control over Hiwatari," he boasted. "Naturally, he rebelled, but after a brief struggle of wits we settled on mutual respect."

'Liar,' Tala thought to himself.

"Since we're already talking about him, could you tell me a bit about Hiwatari's past, for the record?" Tala asked, taking out his recorder. When Balcov grunted his go-ahead Tala clicked the RECORD button, signalling the man to start.

Balcov cleared his throat, as if he was about to read out loud the greatest story ever told.

"Hiwatari was born to an extremely wealthy family of Russian aristocrats. He was considered a child prodigy at the age of three, and graduated from high school at the age of fourteen. Of course, he received outstanding grades; nothing but perfect scores in every subject. He studied economics, law, theology, history, social studies and psychology in Russia; all of which he completed in three years, before moving to Japan to study medicine at the Tokyo University."

"Any relatives?" Tala asked, keeping the recorder between them.

"Both parents are dead. His father died under mysterious circumstances when Hiwatari was about seven, and his mother succumbed to cancer when he was thirteen. He has no siblings and was raised by his grandfather, Count Voltaire, who was quick to disown him when Hiwatari was sentenced. Even though his empire somehow managed to stay afloat despite his grandson's crimes, the shame Hiwatari brought onto Voltaire has left him extremely bitter, I've heard. The two never got along to begin with.

"Hiwatari studied for three years in Tokyo. In those three years eighteen people were brutally murdered on and around the campus. Hiwatari, president of the student council, held several safety meetings to warn people about the murders, telling them where not to go and to travel in groups at night. In fact, one such meeting had taken place just a couple of hours before Hiwatari was caught with the bodies of what would be his seventeenth and eighteenth victims; the last time he'd kill. He didn't panicked and allowed himself to be handcuffed and placed in a police car. When questioned about the two bodies he surprised and horrified everyone by calmly admitting to the other sixteen murders, showing incredible memory as he was able to recount the exact dates, time and murder details for each victim."

" … And, don't you think that a bit strange, Dr Balcov?"

"How so?"

"He left not so much as a single clue for three years, sixteen murders, and then suddenly he's caught in the act? If the police didn't even suspect him, and if he'd been that precise and careful in his actions, what lead the police to him?"

"No one is perfect. Hiwatari simply allowed his pristine record to go to his head and was careless in his last attack," Boris dismissed.

Whereas Balcov's office had been located on the fourth—and highest—floor of the asylum, their destination was in what was essentially the basement. With no windows down here, the only light was provided by fluorescent tubes that ran along the entire length of the ceiling, washing the already white walls with a painfully bright glow. The further down they went, the more intensive the security became. By the time they reached the lowest floor possible, many metres below top soil, the amount of protective armour had increased to the point where the guards resembled modern knights, carrying guns instead of lances and guarding electronic doors instead of castles.

"As you must have guessed, I keep my most dangerous patients down here, the furthest away from the rest of humanity as possible," Boris informed said, speaking of the inmates as if they were the centrepieces of his cherished collection. "We like to call this the Lair. The lack of sunlight and proof of life help to sedate them, I find."

Before them metallic doors opened automatically, and closed again as soon as they were through. Tala counted ten such doors before they finally made it to the end of the hall, only to find themselves at another door that resembled the entrance of a giant a bank vault. It was round and had a coded wheel on one side.

A muscular man stood waiting on them, but he wasn't outfitted in full guard regalia. He wore a more formal looking white orderly uniform instead.

"Doctor Balcov," he greeted in a deep voice, coming to stand before the two, nodding to Tala in silent but respectful greeting. "A word, please."

Balcov took the orderly to the side, speaking softly.

"Concerning Doctor Balcov," Tala softly said into the recorder. "Intelligent and well-educated, but seems to prefer to stick to the safety of book-taught theories, leaving no room for any possible changes in the practice. Prizes Hiwatari, yet dismisses his way of thinking just as easily. Also, too overbearing and full of himself."

"Everything's ready for our visit," Balcov said, returning with the orderly, who looked more reassured.

"Dr Balcov, wouldn't it be best if I went in alone?"

"And why is that?" Balcov asked, eyes narrowing.

"The Captain informed me that Hiwatari is not too … fond … of you, if you don't mind me relaying what I've been told. Your presence might distract him, making it impossible to have a decent interview."

It was a valid point. Balcov stifled a scowl as he realized that he couldn't negate that.

"You could have told me this from the beginning, instead of wasting some of my valuable time escorting you all the way down here," he huffed.

"But then I would have missed the pleasure of your company," Tala said, speaking in a tone that could just have been as sincere as it was mocking.

"When he's finished, show him the way out," Balcov snapped at the orderly

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Balcov," Tala said, following the guard. He could feel Balcov's eyes boring holes in his back but then he heard the director turn around and march off.

"Dr Balcov didn't really introduced us properly," Tala said as he stood watching the guard punch in several numbers into the panel next to the door. "I'm Tala Ivanov."

"Spencer Bunin," the guard said, taking the time to shake hands. "And this is the Antechamber, the control room. This is where I keep watch over things in the Lair."

"You're down here by yourself all the time?"

"Most of the time, though it's not unusual for a couple of the boys to come down to join me. More eyes and ears are always good to have in the Antechamber, and it helps keep me from going mad myself. Hard to believe, but not much goes on in the Lair."

The wheel made a loud groaning sound as Spencer turned it. While Tala doubted he himself could ever get the wheel to budge, the blond gave it a few more twists left and right, entering the new code with each turn, and a CLICK sounded as the hatch was pulled open.

"I have to inspect your bag first," Spencer said, holding out a hand.

Handing the guard his bag, Tala busied himself with studying the room, which was as sterile and cold as the rest of the institute, but someone had tried to liven it up a bit by pasting a few postcards of girls on sunny beaches on one of the lockers. Next to the lockers, four chairs and a table on which Spencer was unpacking the items in Tala's bag, there was no other furniture in the room. It did, however, have an entire wall off TV monitors, all of which showed one single hallway—presumably the Lair—as well as each individual cell, though there didn't seem to be any sound. He counted ten cells in total, but only nine inmates were to be seen shambling about in their confinements.

"Don't worry, he's there," Spencer said, catching Tala staring at the monitors. He pointed at the screen that showed what Tala had assumed to be an uninhabited cell that was dimly lit. "You probably wouldn't be able to tell, but he's right there. When he isn't reading he prefers his cell to be dark, so I dim the lights for him."

"How can you … ?" Tala wondered, moving closer and still unable to find the inmate.

"Don't strain yourself. Everyone else has trouble finding him on screen at times, even the director. I guess, having been his caretaker since he arrived, I just … know Hiwatari's movements well enough to be able to follow him when he moves around."

Unnerved by this chameleon-like ability to hide in such a confined space, Tala took Spencer's advice and saved his concentration for when he was actually talking to the man. Meanwhile, he studied the remainder of the Antechamber, and found that the wall of leather and metal restrains, mouthpieces, pepper spray, tranquilizer guns and straight jackets was still less intimidating than Hiwatari's deceptively empty cell.

"Alright," Spencer said, handing him his bag back and removing a red card from his vest pocket. He walked Tala over to the final door. "Listen good because I'm only going to say this once. You have nothing to do with the other prisoners so just ignore them. Once you reach the cell you keep your distance. Do not touch the glass. Approach the cell only to use the sliding tray located on the right hand side of the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper—no plastic, or pens or pencils, and definitely no paperclips. Make sure to remove any staples, as well. Use the sliding tray handle to move it; never put your hand in the tray itself. Do not accept anything he attempts to give you. Any questions?"

"Can't I take one of those with me?" Tala asked, looking at the tranquilizer guns and mace.

"Stick to the rules and you'll be fine," Spencer smirked. "Hiwatari's is the only cell with glass. I made sure the other cells were cleaned out earlier this morning, but we've had incidents in the past when the other inmates threw objects—some not very sanitary—at visitors, so watch out for that. Just keep to the wall when heading for Hiwatari's cell."

"Pelted with excrements; that'll make a good first impression," Tala sighed, shouldering his bag.

Unlike Balcov's creepy shoulder-patting, Spencer gave Tala a friendly slap on the back and swiped the red card through the slot on the door. It hissed open, revealing yet one last gate before leading into the Lair itself.

"I placed a chair for you before the cell." He then pointed to the monitors. "I've got a sharp eye for things so if I suddenly come bursting in even though you think there's no danger, just do what I say and get back to the Antechamber, okay? Hiwatari is always a challenging mystery to outsiders and they are too easily fooled. I'll be watching you. You'll be fine."

Tala took a deep breathe and stepped over the high threshold.

"See you soon," Spencer said, and closed the door with a soft thud, which automatically opened the final gate.

Tala counted the cells as he walked. All were situated on his left, leaving a solid wall on his right that he kept close to like Spencer had advised. Still, he couldn't resist peering out of the corner of his eyes as he passed each cell. A couple had solid doors with small observation windows while the rest of the cells had just bars. The cells were brightly lit and unfurnished save for plain cots, toilets and sinks. The visible inmates were a miserable sight to behold. Some sat on their beds, rocking back and forth. Others walked aimlessly in circles, muttering to themselves. One inmate gave a sudden scream before throwing himself against a padded wall and collapsed on the ground, falling as if the impact had killed him. Luckily, they were all too caught up in their own little worlds to notice Tala as he moved along.

At least, the first eight were. As he passed the ninth cell the man leapt forward, pressing his face grotesquely against the bars and barring rotten teeth. He peered out at Tala through matted strands of blond hair.

Licking his lips like a hungry dog, he hissed, "I'll fuck you on all foursssss!"

Tala looked straight ahead and passed the cell. He was at the end of the hall. A folding chair sat waiting for him. Placing his bag next to the chair, Tala calmed himself and turned to face the cell.

As he'd already been able to see on the monitors, this cell was unlike the rest. It had no bars, but the reinforced glass barrier was over a foot thick, with small round openings safely out of reach high above to allow ventilation. It offered full view of the cell itself, which appeared the most liveable, compared to the others. The bolted-down furniture—their screws and nails wisely inaccessible through caps around the legs of the furniture—included a desk, a chair and a bed, which was bare of all sheets and had just one pillow. There being no bookshelf, the dozens of books within the cell had been neatly been stacked with great care on every available space; some on the desk, others on the floor. There were detailed charcoal drawings in there as well.

But no sign of the artist.

"Mr Hiwatari?" Tala called out, garnering no response except for a howl from the second cell down the corridor. "I'm Tala Ivanov. I've been granted permission to speak to you."

Nothing moved within the confines of the cell.

"I'd like to interview you, if you don't mind."

He stepped closer, hands in his pockets as he tried to see through the shadows beneath the bed, even though it was highly unlikely that Hiwatari would stoop so low as the hide there.

"Please, Mr Hiwatari, I'd really like to meet you—"

"Is that so?"

At first Tala thought it had been another prisoner, but after some doubt Tala was certain the low voice had come from the cell before him. But still, the speaker was nowhere in sight.

"Yes," Tala answered carefully. "I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"'A few' is less that that bagful of papers you carry with you," the voice argued. "You've obviously got plenty to ask."

"It all depends on how much you are willing to answer."

Searching the farthest corners of the cell, where the shadows were the darkest, Tala took a startled step back when a body materialized out of the shadows on his right, no more than a foot behind the glass.

Taking calm steps, Kai Hiwatari came to stand before him, a glimmer of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Tala had seen headshots of the man in his files, but seeing him in person was a whole lot more intimidating. The trademark tattoos were more menacing in real life, adding a predatory, almost feral, look to his otherwise refined features. The grey asylum uniform matched his slate-coloured bangs. As if being taller than Tala wasn't enough, Hiwatari looked down at him with the fieriest of red eyes that burned with a hunger—a hunger for knowledge? For blood? For freedom?

"Good morning," Hiwatari greeted once he'd given Tala a compete look-over.

Tala hadn't known what to expect, but it was safe to say that the cultured voice, penetrating eyes and sophisticated appearance of the man who had anchored his place in history as the most feared murderer made him falter for a moment. Hiwatari looked every bit the celebrated individual he had once been. Unlike his fellow inmates, he'd no degenerated into a primitive, uncontrollable savage. Nothing in his posture betrayed his true nature, except those eyes. They studied Tala with such a calculating stare that it made him feel like he was being hunted.

"Good morning, Mr Hiwatari," he finally managed to string together, already fearing that he'd messed up in the other man's presence. "As I was saying, I would like to—"

"May I see your credentials?"

Tala pulled the fake ID out of his coat pocket and held it up.

"Closer, please."

Tala stretched out his arm fully. Hiwatari gave him a look that could have been condescendingly patient.

"Cloooser," he purred.

Tala took one step closer. The crimson eyes gave the laminated ID the briefest of glances and fixated themselves right back on Tala.

"So, you really are a student," he said.

"I am."

"But not of journalism."

"What?" Tala almost dropped the card.

"Somewhat convincing, I suppose," Hiwatari went on, studying the ID with his head tilted to one side. "Boris was no doubt fooled. Then again, that isn't saying much. You were sent by his nephew, Bryan Balcov, were you not? He is more sensible than his uncle: he would never send a mere rookie journalist to me. You are here for something else."

Tala hated the silence on his part, but he was having trouble focussing anymore. The speed and accuracy with which Hiwatari had seen through his pretence had been so swift and easy it seemed almost supernatural.

"If you wish for me to answer your questions, you must first answer mine. You are not a student journalist, are you?" Hiwatari asked. He glanced to something behind Tala. "Don't worry. The cameras do not record sound: your confession will not reach offended ears."

"No, I am not a journalist," Tala admitted, putting away the ID.

"And you were sent here by Balcov's nephew, weren't you, Officer Ivanov?"

"Yes, I was. I'm not an officer, either."

A moment of silence passed before the bluenette motioned to the forgotten chair in the hall.

"Considering you've been subjected to Boris' hospitality, you haven't been offered a seat since you first step foot in here. Please, sit down."

Tala did, compelled to softly thank the other's consideration. Hiwatari smiled approvingly at him. His guest seated, the inmate walked over to the chair at the table in his cell and sat down as well, folding his arms onto the table, his posture showing polite attentiveness as he watched Tala take out the questionnaire, a notebook and a pen.

"You have never been here before," Hiwatari observed. "In Japan, that is."

"No."

"Ivanov ... I suppose you're currently studying in Russia."

"I am."

Hiwatari was silent for a moment before asking, "Is President Gorsky still in power?"

"Yes, he is," Tala informed, surprised that the other cared for such things. "Though there's been some reformation in parliament."

"No doubt he kept that incompetent Panin as Minister of Finance."

"As a matter of fact, he has."

"Shame," Hiwatari sighed, leaning on his elbows, watching Tala as he searched though his bag. "You will no doubt re-play our conversation on your little recorder in the company of others once you return to headquarters, so let me ask one question before you turn it on—it may be a bit embarrassing for others to hear this."

His hand having just rested on the recorder, which was still in the bag, Tala nodded.

"What did Dunga tell you?" When Tala blinked owlishly Hiwatari elaborated with a nod towards the cell next to his. "Dense Dunga, my neighbour, growled at you as you passed him. What did he say?"

"He said he wanted to fuck me on all fours," Tala said, pretending to think little of it.

A single brow was raised.

"Did he, now? Not a nice way to greet strangers. Then again, he's been here for eleven years for raping and strangling a good number of young men, including his brother, and for beating his mother to death with a shovel. Seeing an attractive face after so many years is bound to arouse his old but unforgotten lust, wouldn't you agree?"

"I would rather not linger on the thought, Mr Hiwatari," he said, folding his legs and crossing his arms.

The bluenette's smirk became more prominent.

"Of course not. It is always so much simpler to pretend some things never happened, isn't it?"

"I'm not avoiding anything. That man doesn't know what he's saying, and I don't see the purpose in confronting an individual who's lost his mind."

"Yet you are sitting here right before me." Hiwatari said, leaning back. "Or do you not think of this little meeting as a confrontation? So, what is it? An observation? If so, do feel free to ask questions and make notes of my humble abode."

Tala looked away after a short while, unable to keep the intense eye contact.

"Have you read all those books?" he asked, spying an open book on the bed.

"A few times, yes. Do you like to read, Officer Ivanov?"

"I am not an officer, Mr Hiwatari," Tala repeated, "but yes, I do enjoy reading."

"Then you certainly are no journalist: they prefer to spin their own truths."

Tala smiled at the comment.

"I read because I believe that every book is an extension of the author's thoughts. One can learn a lot about the writer's mind by reading what he writes." Returning to business with a firm shake, he clicked on the recorder. "Mr Hiwatari, seeing as how there's no point in trying to keep up a charade with you, let me get to the point. I was sent here to—"

"No, no, no," Hiwatari clucked disapprovingly, shaking his head. "You were doing so well. You've been courteous and receptive of courtesy. You established trust by admitting the embarrassing truth of Dunga's words, but now you ruin it with this talk of an interview. I was beginning to think better of you."

"But this isn't an interview." Resisting the urge to look around for security cameras—as that would make it all too obvious—he lowered his voice. "I was sent here by Captain Balcov to ask for your assistance."

"Oh, and here I was thinking the Captain to be wiser than his uncle, but he's not a quick learner, is he?" Hiwatari turned his attention to the unfinished sketch on the table, but Tala could tell the man was aware of his every move. "I'm sure he told you about the last time he sent someone to try and recruit me. How careless of him, putting you at risk of suffering a similar faith. What have you done to earn such a fate?"

Sounding much braver than he felt, Tala tilted his head in an inquisitive manner.

"Cruel fate? But I'm not in any danger."

"Your false bravado is too confident to be true," Hiwatari said, but humoured him by asking, "What makes you so sure you're on safe grounds here?"

"Because the only threat to me right now is you, and you won't do to me what you've done to the others."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Why won't you?"

He thought he'd put the man on the spot, but Hiwatari smiled appreciatively and clapped his hands together in a lazy round of applause. When he said or did nothing more Tala took that as a sign to sell his pitch, now that Hiwatari seemed to be in a better mood.

"There's been a couple of extraordinary murders in the past week."

He hadn't expected Hiwatari to know about the murders, but, again, the other proved him wrong.

"I presume you are referring to the barbequed lawyer from last week and the combusted fat man from last Monday." Hiwatari picked up a piece of coal and continued on sketching. "I'm disappointed. The police were able to catch me, but are having trouble uncovering the identity of this fledgling killer on their own? Tokyo's finest is not what it used to be."

Tala bit his tongue, not because of the slight at Bryan's abilities, but because he could tell the other was losing interest once more.

"Mr Hiwatari, I don't have all day to argue that point with you, unfortunately," he said, balancing the recorder on one knee and pulling out the questionnaire. "We need insight. Will you lend your assistance for this case?"

Using his left ring finger to shade out the lines he'd just drawn, Hiwatari asked, without looking up, "Why would I?"

The first priority had been getting Hiwatari to agree; at the moment he seemed to be ... agreeable, which was not the same but better than nothing. In order to keep the man on board, Tala had to quickly come up with something, even though Bryan had firmly stated that they wouldn't negotiate with Hiwatari. All Tala had to offer was ...

It was a gamble, his next move, but gut instincts won out.

"You're bored, aren't you?" Tala asked.

Hiwatari kept on drawing, even as he looked up with a calculated look.

"But not with me," Tala continued. He checked his watch. "It's been twenty minutes. You've given me more time than you did my predecessor, without complications. Whatever your reasons, they are beyond my comprehension, but what I can make of this is that you rather have me here than send me away in a straitjacket."

"How unattractively vain of you, Officer Ivanov."

Hiwatari sounded unimpressed. Had he gone too far in his assumptions? Tala sat back when Hiwatari got to his feet, but the man simply walked over to the metal sliding tray that had been built into the thick barrier.

"Pass it through," he said, nodding at the questionnaire in Tala's lap.

With Hiwatari watching him intently, Tala kept at least a foot between him and the glass as he placed the loose papers in the tray and pushed them through. Hiwatari didn't pick them up at once. He was still staring at Tala, so intensely that it made Tala clear his throat and back away again. Hiwatari smirked at the reaction but said nothing. Picking up the questionnaire, he flipped through it.

"Tsk-tsk, officer, do you really expect to uncover knowledge with such childish questions? Do you think you can dissect my mind with such a blunt tool?"

"We hoped that by starting with simple questions we could—"

A loud CLANG made him jump. The sound echoed through the Lair. Another inmate screamed, which made another yell at him to shut up. Hiwatari had tossed the questionnaire back into the tray and slammed it back through. Papers flew over the edge of the tray and fluttered to the floor at the Tala's feet. Coming to stand so close to the glass that his breath condensed on the clear surface, Hiwatari floored Tala with a piercing look, yet his voice came out as a purr as he spoke.

"You don't hope. You assume. You assume that someone such as myself, who will spend the rest of his life in this pit, will do anything to keep myself amused. You assume that, because I am no longer free to do what I want, I am willing to comply with manmade laws. You assume that a pretty face and lithe body is enough to hold my attention. The Captain may be more competent a man than his uncle, but that he sent his pretty little lackey here to beg me to solve this case for him is an ugly stain on his otherwise pristine record. Congratulations, Officer Ivanov, I do believe you screwed up your one chance to make your Captain proud."

Tala winced. It was but the slightest of reactions, but Hiwatari was watching him so closely the man picked up on the involuntary twitch. The red eyes flickered.

"Odd that the Captain went through all that trouble of bringing you over here. Perhaps you really are a good student—I suspect you are studying criminology, with a keen interest in criminal behaviour—but I'm certain that Japan hasn't run out of students with similar enviable records. I was under the impression that you were old school friends; that the Captain owed you a favour, but evidently, your relationship wasn't that platonic."

Tala collected the fallen papers, faking indifference, but Hiwatari wasn't done.

"You're trying so hard to prove yourself, aren't you? And you don't even know why. But I do, Officer Ivanov. You treat me the same as you treat others, with a confident and independent façade, hoping to fool others into thinking that they may have underestimated you. But perhaps you're too good at it, because now people have unfairly high expectations of you, and that only eats away at your confidence, doesn't it? You took on this assignment knowing it would be too much for you to bear, but the Captain has so much faith in you you're afraid to let him down. Which begs the question: how is it that, in reality, your old lover knows so little of you?"

Squaring his shoulders, Tala straightened.

"While I may not be honest about myself to others, at least I don't lie to myself, Mr Hiwatari. You, on the other hand, seem to be under the disillusioned impression that the rest of us are far beneath you. You speak as if I should be honoured just to be in your presence. You act as if you're a god who is, at best, amused by us mortals. And your act is so convincing I cannot help but wonder whether you're no longer aware that it's just an act. When was the last time you were honest with yourself?" Dropping the papers once more in the tray, he slammed it back through to the bluenette. "Or are you too afraid to delve into your own mind?"

The red eyes blazed, but Hiwatari was not angered. He rested an arm on the glass and smirked.

"I must admit that in the five years I've been in here, this is the first outside visit that I thoroughly enjoyed, Officer Ivanov. It's only a shame that this barrier is between us. You are free to take your things and leave now."

The dismissal was sudden and final.

"But what about—" Tala said, but Hiwatari slid the tray back through, less roughly.

"I refuse to fill out questionnaires like some mindless test subject. If I were to do this one I'd forever associate you with such grade school tactics, and I'd rather remember you in a more appreciative light. A psychiatrist student once approached me on campus in an attempt to subject me to similar tedious testing, and he became my fourth victim. I strangled him with his own tie and hung his body in a tree in the woods where it was pecked at by crows for days before it was found. I can't get my hands on you from in here, but I'd rather you left now before I do something I won't regret."

Laying down on his bed, Hiwatari picked up a book and began reading.

Frustrated and disappointed, Tala didn't try to get the man's attention again. Grabbing the questionnaire and stuffing it and everything else back into his bag, he walked away without looking back.

But he didn't get far. The hulking figure of Dunga was pressed up against the bars of his cell again. Tala looked away when he noticed the man had dropped his pants.

"I c-cut my wrist ssssoo it bleeds! Look!" Dunga demanded, holding out a large fist. "I'll fuck ya real good and make you bleed too!! Look at the blood! LOOK AT IT!"

With that he flung his palm open and Tala felt a warm glob hit his cheek. Raising his hand, stunned, he touched the liquid to find, not the bright redness of blood, but the pale stickiness of semen. Disgusted, he searched his pocket for a tissue as he walked on, but couldn't find any.

"Taste it, bitch! Drink that blood! Come back here—I'll fuck ya! I'LL FUCK YA!"

Dunga's excited howls stirred the other inmates, who began to shout and holler as well, turning the entire corridor into a hellish tunnel of insanity. The gate opened up ahead and Spencer appeared, waving with one hand for Tala to get into the Antechamber while he went about silencing the excited inmates by banging on the doors and bars of their cells one by one. Tala intended to do as told but a single voice amidst the chaos made him stop.

"Ivanov. Ivanov!"

Despite Spencer signalling him to get out, Tala doubled back and returned to the end of the corridor.

"Yeah … Come here … I'll do ya hard, right here," Dunga hissed at him as he passed.

Rubbing his cheeks so furiously they burned, Tala stepped up to the glass barrier, expecting another barrage of ridicule, but this time, Hiwatari wasn't amused in the least. For a split second those flaming eyes seemed ready to unleash hell itself before the moment passed and he composed himself a bit.

"Such an act of complete disrespect sickens me," he said, now leaning with both forearms against the glass above their heads. "Even for a savage such as Dunga, that was inexcusable. He's upset you, and I will not have you in such a state."

Spencer was steadily making his way towards Tala, to retrieve him even as the clamour died down. Tala came as close the glass as he could get without touching it.

"Then help the police. Help me. Fill out the questionnaire," he begged, feeling his eyes burning and praying that there were no tears in them. But judging from Hiwatari's keen interest in them, they were probably glistening.

"Like I said, that questionnaire is useless."

"I need answers, Hiwatari."

Hiwatari leaned in, bringing them to eyelevel with each other, and not for the first time Tala was grateful that the glass separated them because a possessive look came over the tattooed face.

"I really don't like this look on your face. I will make you happy again," Hiwatari said. His eyes glanced aside. Spencer was approaching. Hiwatari did not lower his voice. "But for now, go find an old friend of mine at the university. It's been five years, but I'm positive he's still there. Search for John Cristal Tricellar Leotard."

"Who's—"

"No more time for questions. Hurry along now," Hiwatari said, his eyes staring with an unnamed intensity. "Dunga can come more than once in less than five minutes."

Tbc …

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**Note**: Kai is pretty talkative in this fic, I know, but this is an AU, and Lecter's known for his use of words.

Read & Reviews, please.


	4. January 13

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

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_**Thursday, January 13**__**th**__**, 2004 **_

_**Time: 16.31**_

NO MATCHES FOUND

Sitting back in his chair, Tala ran his hand through his hair, took a moment to compose himself, and tried again. Pressing the delete button, he typed _Leotard, John_.

A small icon blinked several times before …

NO MATCHES FOUND

Furry ears perked up when he cursed. After a few more seconds came a louder swear before Tala rose from his desk, grabbed a few notebooks, and exited the bedroom. Stretching with a loud yawn, Wolborg followed after him, into the living room, where Tala plopped down on the rug before the low table already littered with papers.

Pulling his recorder out of his coat pocket, Tala rewound the tape a bit and pressed the play button.

"…_for now, go see an old friend of mine at the university. Search for John Cristal Tricellar Leotard."_

"I bet you're having a good laugh now, aren't you, Hiwatari?" Tala muttered, writing down the name on a piece of blank paper absently. "'Make me happy', my ass. You're just messing around with me."

He stopped his muttering, refocusing on the words before him.

" … Aren't you?"

Red eyes, flaming with disgust blazed before his as he recalled Hiwatari's reaction to Dunga's little farewell gift. The bluenette had been genuinely angered. After having shown such emotions, would he have still given Tala a false lead, just for the heck of it?

Tala stood and began to walk about the room.

"He wants me to find this person, but I've checked the university's records and I can't find a match, or any name even closely resembling it. So, what was Hiwatari telling me? And why did he use the word 'search'? Why not 'look up' or 'ask for'? If I am searching for this person … then he isn't meant to be found?" He paused, tapping his pencil on his open palm before snorting. "Yeah, that makes a lot of sense."

A wet nose nudged his arm as Wolborg demanded his attention, a tennis ball clenched tightly between his sharp teeth. Looking down, Tala scratched the large beast between the ears with the end of his pencil.

"I don't have time to play, buddy."

The ball bounced away dejectedly and the pencil was nearly plucked from his grip as Wolborg tried to chew on it, desperately trying to pry his master away from his musings. The hound was keen on their play time and was well aware that today his master was neglecting the schedule.

"I'm busy," Tala insisted, sitting back down cross-legged on the floor before the couch. "I'll take you for a walk when I'm done."

Whimpering, Wolborg rested its head on the table next to the redhead's hand, looking on as he wrote. Another couple of minutes passed in silence before Wolborg got up and trotted out the living room only to return with his leash, dropping it on Tala's lap and sitting down to peer impatiently at his owner.

Sighing, Tala checked the clock on the wall. He had been at this all afternoon. A little break would do them both some good. The weather was nice and the fresh air would help ease away some of his tension, and maybe even clear his mind.

"We're only going out for an hour," he said, rising.

Wolborg barked excitedly as Tala went to change into some warmer clothes.

Down the elevator and out the front door, which was held open for them by the doorman, Wolborg trotted obediently next to Tala. As they walked down the street, Tala ignored the stares from his fellow pedestrians. With his flaming hair and sky-blue eyes he stood out as an obvious foreigner. He'd never been a people-person, and going out anywhere always made him uncomfortable. There had a been a time when he didn't have to worry about going out in public; a time when he felt more secure even when out in the busiest of streets. With Bryan, he had always felt safer and—

Banishing the very thought, Tala let Wolborg tug him to the one specific part of the park they'd visited the day before. Fellow pet visitors could only stare as Wolborg dwarfed their own dogs, his white fur giving off an unusual blue sheen in the late afternoon sun.

Removing the thick collar, Tala patted the broad back, wordlessly giving Wolborg permission to run amuck while Tala took a seat on a nearby bench. Settling down with his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets, Tala stared straight ahead, barely noticing those straying in and out of his line of sight. Joggers, dog-walkers, students, tourists, business men and women in suits, parents, couples …

Why?! Why couldn't he stop thinking about Bryan now? When he'd gotten the Captain's message back in Russia he'd only been interested in the case. He'd even looked forward to seeing Bryan again, but had never considered re-establishing their past intimacy. Only when he'd noticed how anxious Bryan had seemed in the office had Tala begun to fear that there had been an ulterior motive.

Kicking angrily at the gravel, Tala scowled, suddenly annoyed at the other's audacity to even attempt a reconciliation of that kind. Even more annoying was that every time he even toyed with the idea of ever saying yes to the other's advances, something within him fluttered.

" … heard anything about the murders on the news?" a voice asked someone, making Tala look up from the grove he'd kicked in the loose ground.

Two women were slowly walking by, too deep in conversation to care who else was listening. One of them was pushing a baby carriage but the other was wringing the plastic handles of her shopping bag as she shook her head.

"Nothing new. Not even the sleaziest of tabloids have been able to uncover anything! That the police have been so tight-lipped about the whole thing ... They are worried," she said. "My husband is a lawyer too. I keep calling him every hour to make sure he's alright, and I have him pick up the children from school because I don't dare let them walk home anymore!"

The woman pushing the carriage was more rational, though she kept looking around them, as if keeping an eye out for the killer.

"They'll catch this one," she assured her friend, pulling up the sunscreen of the carriage to hide her baby better. "They caught Hiwatari; they must be able to catch this one."

"But Hiwatari killed so many before he was caught! If the police are going to sit and wait until this one has killed at least a dozen as well … "

By now they'd walked out of Tala's hearing's range, but a new voice invited itself to his attention.

"Is this seat taken?" an American accent drawled.

Despite the confident question, Michael didn't just sit down. He kept a respectful distance, carefully trying to assess whether Tala's mood had improved since the last time they'd spoken. Under his thick jacket, he wore jogging pants and a sports shirt. His headphones, hanging around his neck, still blared music but he turned his MP3 player off when Tala shrugged and slid to the side. Dropping down, Michael removed a bottle of water from his belt and took a few gulps, sighing contently.

"Hey," he said after a while, "I was just thinking about calling you when I got back home. I guess … I just want to say that—Look, I'm sorry about what I said back at the station. I didn't mean to sound like such a jackass. I get it now: you and the Captain's relationship, completely off limits."

Tala didn't know what to say for a moment, as he'd forgotten about the incident.

"I overreacted," he said. "I was tired, and tense. It was more my fault than yours."

"Yeah, well Dox has got everyone tense," Michael said, resting his arms on the back on the bench as he watched a group of passing high school girls, who giggled and waved as they went by. "Kids these days."

"Dox?" Tala asked, not giving the girls any notice.

"Oh, you didn't think the media was going to let this guy go without a name for long, did ya? He's been dubbed Paradox, or Dox, for short. They say he's an oxymoron, preaching against amorality, and then killing to make his point." He laughed at Tala's unenthusiastic look. "I hate the name too, but let it slide. Trust me, it's best to let them amuse themselves with their own stories for now. We only intervene when they start exaggerating."

Inexplicably, Tala was curious to know what Hiwatari's reaction would be to the name. He was fairly certain the man would have tsk'd dismissively the first time he heard it, probably from Spencer.

"So … how did it go?"

"How did what go?" Tala flinched, feeling as if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't, even though he'd only been thinking about the bluenette.

"Um, only the most coveted interview opportunity in the world?" Michael said, frowning at Tala's inattentiveness. "Everyone's talking about it back at the station. Hell, even Emily's dying to know, and she's usually good at faking disinterest. We've never had someone go in to talk to Hiwatari and come back out, still able to string a coherent sentence together. For someone who spoke to the most dangerous criminal in the world, you don't look as brain dead as you should be."

"I suppose it went … well, eventually. Other than a few unpleasant moments—" He narrowed his eyes as he thought of Dunga, but he wasn't going to tell Michael about _that_ little incident. "—it wasn't as horrifying as I'd thought it'd be. Trying, yes. Infuriating, yes. Confident-killing, yes. Hiwatari, he's … "

Michael raised a curious brow as Tala paused.

"He's … I think society really lost a very valuable member," Tala said, not sure what he was trying to say. "The man's a genius. And if I'd met him on the streets, I'd have been very impressed with the way he carried himself, and probably envious as well. That's what makes him so dangerous, his ability to mask his true intent, but at the same time … I can't help thinking whether his intelligence was what drove him to kill, or whether he tried to overcome his violent nature by striving to be the best; by driving himself into the intellectual corner, which should have kept his mind off death, maybe he'd tried to suppress the need to kill."

"Had more of a God complex," Michael said. "He's always been a genius and looks down on others because of this. If you were to go through the list of those he'd killed, you'll notice that they weren't as 'refined' as him."

"I'm not here to study Hiwatari," Tala reminded, wrapping Wolborg's leash around his knuckles. "He's tucked away safely in the asylum and isn't a threat to the public. It's this Dox who we should all be focussing on, and if dealing with Hiwatari is what it's going to take to catch him … "

"Careful, Tala," Michael joked with a fair amount of sincerity. "You don't want to make an admirer out of that guy."

Tala rolled his eyes and scoffed. Michael leaned in, no nonsense now.

"Think about it very carefully, Tala. Hiwatari doesn't give a snuff about these murders. He didn't even care much about the murders _he_ committed. He doesn't want to help us put an end to this. He must have agreed to this for another, more selfish reason."

" … _I will make you happy … "_

"He's behind bars," Tala repeated with a shrug. "Whatever he's after, he's not going anywhere, so he'll never get it. In the end, he gave me a clue where to look."

"And?" Michael asked.

"I'm working on it."

"Hey, don't look so bummed out, though you look adorable when frowning." Michael grinned when the frown turned into an exasperated sigh.

"I see you got some of that R&R you wanted," Tala said, changing the subject.

"Well, it would have been better if I had had some company to enjoy it with," Michael said with a pointed look, "but at least I got some shut eye. I decided to do some jogging, you know, to tire myself out, otherwise I won't be able to sleep tonight. And what brings _you_ out here? You're not exactly in running wear."

"Letting my dog get some exercise," Tala said, holding up the leash.

Almost on cue, Wolborg came bounding back towards the bench, almost taking down a whole line of skaters. But when he noticed Michael Wolborg's ears twitched and he trotted over suspiciously, head down but not submissive as he placed himself between Tala and Michael in a protective manner.

"Uh, Earth to Tala: that's not a dog, that's a mutant wolf," Michael said, impressed.

"His mother was a wolf and his father part wolf," Tala explained, scratching between the furry ears. "His name is Wolborg."

"Part wolf, part cyborgs," Michael deducted. "Pretty cool. Where did you get him?"

Tala masterfully pretended to be more intent on checking Wolborg's collar, keeping his face down as he answered.

"He was a gift."

"You get the best gifts. All I ever get are t-shirts and a cap every now and then." Michael held out his hand. Wolborg tentatively sniffed it, and the bushy tail slowly wagged. "Is he trained?"

"He can't do circus tricks, if that's what you mean. But he's well disciplined."

"When I was a kid I used to spend most of my summers on my uncle's ranch in Texas. He had these two huge German Shepherds named Cassidy and Liberty," Michael said, then turned to him with a light in his eyes. "You got any balls we could play with?"

"Excuse me?"

Michael snickered.

"I don't know what _you_'re thinking about, but I meant like a tennis ball or something. Wolborg knows how to fetch, doesn't he?"

Glaring—because he knew Michael had purposefully meant that innuendo—Tala dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a bouncy but badly chewed tennis ball, the sight of which threw Wolborg into a frenzy. Tala tossed it to Michael.

"Care to join us?" Michael asked.

"Don't mind if I do, seeing as he's _my_ dog," Tala said, not taking the offered hand and standing.

The grass field they eventually found themselves on was located near a large manmade lake. A few people were scattered about, the largest group being ten teenagers playing a wild game of extreme Frisbee. Wolborg watched the discus longingly as it glided back and forth between the teens. A sharp whistle from Michael drew his attention back to the American, who held up the tennis ball.

"Go get it!"

Michael stretched his arm back and with a swift curve he flung the ball. It sailed high and long, further than Tala could ever throw. Releasing an excited bark at the new challenge, Wolborg tore across the grass, watching the flying object that began to descend only when more than half-way across the field.

"Impressive," Tala complimented, shielding his eyes with a hand as he followed the ball's course. "You don't wear a baseball cap just because you're a fan, do you?"

Michael shrugged coolly.

"I've been playing baseball since I was seven. Damn, he's fast," he said as Wolborg came bounding back, ball clenched in his teeth.

"You still do?"

"Well, work kinda takes up most of my time, but sometimes me and Steve and Eddy go down to the sport centre. Steve prefers American football and Eddy's better at basketball, but it doesn't really matter what's available—so long as we can blow off some steam. Even Emily comes along once in a blue moon to brush up on her tennis. Good boy," Michael knelt down, ruffling Wolborg's fur as he accepted the ball before straightening and tossing it once more, this time over a distant hedge. "So, tell me about yourself, Tala."

"Why?"

"Jeez, you're wary," Michael said. "We're colleagues. Just thought it'd be good to know more about someone I'm working with. Nothing embarrassing or freaky, just … yourself. Like your family, childhood, hobbies, etcetera."

"I don't have any living family left. I grew up in an orphanage. I like solving puzzles and reading in my spare time."

"And avoiding talking about yourself. So … why reading? Not that I've never picked up a book, but I don't consider reading much of a hobby."

Tala smiled to himself as he watched Wolborg burst through the foliage, scaring the daylights out of the people who'd been standing nearby.

"Because I am such an aspiring writer."

Michael waited for an elaboration. When he got none he sighed and adjusted his cap.

"Man, you Russians are so weird."

"And you Americans are not?" Tala countered.

"Careful. Don't want to instigate another Cold War, do you?"

The rest of the time was spent in a better mood, the two discussing different topics outside of their jobs, trading a bit of information on their personal lives every now and then while Michael continued to give Wolborg new and more difficult challenges. When the American came up with the 'wicked' idea to throw the ball into the lake Tala intervened; he didn't want to let Wolborg walk all the way back to the apartments soaking wet in this cold, nor spend valuable time drying his pet off once they got home.

"Well, it's been fun, but I better get going," Michael said after walking Tala back to his complex . He checked his watch. "I still have fifteen minutes but afterwards I promised Eddie and Steven we'd grab some fast food before getting back to the station. You should join us sometime. Eddie can do this really neat trick with a straw that's hilarious."

Tala nodded, hooking Wolborg's leash onto the collar: building regulations strictly forbade animals walking about loose. Straightening to wish Michael good night, he found his lips caught in a quick kiss. Michael pulled away with a victorious grin.

"Sorry. Couldn't resist. Night, Tala."

Replacing his headphones, Michael tossed him a wink, turned and with a few small trots continued his jogging, crossing the street, heading back towards the park.

Watching the empty spot before him, Tala resisted the temptation to touch his lips, though wiping them never crossed his mind. Next to him Wolborg sat watching with his head to one side, as perturbed by Michael's actions as Tala was. Seeing his master still a bit too shocked to make his own decisions, Wolborg took the initiative and tugged Tala inside.

'Shouldn't I be … angry? Outraged?' Tala thought as he leaned back in the lift, watching the numbers light up as they passed each floor. A man stepped in on the fourth floor, then got out on the sixth. By the time they reached their own floor, Tala still couldn't determine what his appropriate reaction to Michael's bold come-on should be.

The phone was ringing when he opened the door. Shrugging off his coat and undoing Wolborg's leash, Tala picked up the phone and, once he recognized the number, answered it.

"Captain," he greeted neutrally.

"_Dunga Hirozaki's dead."_

The words were blunt and to the point, but it still took Tala a moment to understand what had just been said as he stared out the glass balcony doors at the Tokyo's lit cityscape. Only when noticing how lively the world look out there did it finally register to him.

"_Tala?" _Bryan asked.

"I'm here," Tala confirmed as Wolborg nudged his hand, ready for his meal. Needing to keep busy to stop himself from spacing out again, Tala headed into the kitchen. "Dunga, as in the one in the asylum? What happened to him?"

And, more importantly, why had Bryan thought it necessary to call him up and tell him this. Dunga wasn't part of the case, and Tala would rather forget he existed in the first place, which was now a lot easier given that he was dead. Before Bryan even said the words, Tala had a disturbing inkling that he knew what had happened .

"_Hiwatari is what happened to him."_

The heavy can of dog food just missed Tala's foot as it slipped from his hand. Wolborg sniffed it curiously, then whined up at Tala, who picked it up with cold fingers.

"Sir, how ... They are kept apart."

"_Hiwatari had been leaning against the wall that divides his cell from Dunga's. At first the guard assumed he was just talking to himself, but then noticed Dunga in a curled position on the floor of his cell. The guard was just about to check on him when he suddenly began slamming his own head on the floor. The fifth blow fractured his skull. He died before the medics could arrive."_

"That … can't be," Tala said softly, reasoning mostly to himself. "Spencer knows Hiwatari better than that to not act sooner."

"_I said a guard was present, not the head orderly. Spencer Bunin wasn't present at the time. He was on duty but had been called elsewhere. In the twenty minutes he'd been away, Dunga suffered—as Boris is calling it—a manic episode and did his own head in, literally."_

Finally giving an impatient Wolborg his food, Tala leaned against the counter. Despite the horrific manner in which Dunga had died, that wasn't what disturbed him the most. How did Hiwatari know that Spencer wasn't there to stop him? He couldn't see into the Antechamber, and it was unlikely that Spencer reported his every move to his prime patient.

"_Wait, it gets better,"_ Bryan said darkly. _"The medical report states that, during his 'manic episode', or right before it, Dunga had inflicted extensive injuries to his groin, had bitten open wounds on both wrists, and had chewed off most of his tongue."_

Tala swallowed with much difficulty, trying not to picture the injuries in his head.

"But why Hiwatari?" he had to ask. "I mean, those security monitors are silent, so how do they know Hiwatari even said anything to Dunga?"

"_This happened a few hours ago. They have since reviewed the tapes taken from better angles and were able to confirm that Hiwatari was indeed talking the entire time Dunga was mutilating himself."_ Bryan then sighed. _"Plus, he admitted himself to Bunin while the medics were trying to revive Dunga. Reportedly, Hiwatari calmly turned to Bunin and asked whether he thought it was a fitting death, or whether Dunga hadn't suffered enough before dying."_

"But what about the case? My assignment?" Tala asked, pouring a glass of water for his parched throat. "Will Boris send Hiwatari into solitary confinement? What sort of punishment do they intend to give him?"

"_Knowing my uncle, none. I mean, Hiwatari's already behind bars and too insane to be put down. Boris would never subject him to shock therapy or a lobotomy, because he's still convinced he can unlock Hiwatari's mind, so he doesn't want to risk damaging it. Besides, an inmate is usually taken out of his cell for 'correctional procedures'—it's never a good idea to take Hiwatari out of his cell, or even the Lair."_

"And what about Boris?" Tala asked.

"_He tried to pin this on you."_

"What?!" Tala choked on the mouthful of water.

"_Hiwatari had never had anything against Dunga,"_ Bryan explained calmly, though in his voice it was obvious he didn't give Boris' accusations any credit_. "Other than thinking very little of him, Hiwatari never showed any malice towards the guy. You were there yesterday; Dunga ends up dead today."_

"That's ridiculous!" Tala insisted, and immediately knew that it really wasn't.

But it would be arrogant to believe that Hiwatari had killed Dunga simply for Dunga what had done the day before, wouldn't it? To think that Dunga had been punished so horrifically for him … It was conceited, the very thought of it. Hiwatari hadn't done it for him. The man had probably wanted to kill Dunga for some time, and had used yesterday's incident to justify his actions … But why would Hiwatari care to justify his actions? If he could kill so easily, so effortlessly, within such a confined and guarded place, what had stopped him from doing so sooner?

Had it been him, then? Had his visit led to the death of a man?

Pouring himself another glass, Tala emptied it in a few quick gulps.

"And what about my report on Hiwatari itself?" he asked, wanting to change the subject and hoping Bryan would be considerate enough to do so.

He was.

"_First off, congrats on making it out in one piece." _Paper rustled in the background as Bryan seemed to be reading through the very report in question. _"Secondly, it's a very promising start. You got more out of him than any other cop ever did."_

"He's said more, but he doesn't seem to have much to say," Tala said, exiting the kitchen to aimlessly walk around the living room, eyeing the papers on the table before the television.

"_Though it may not seem like it at the moment, this has been a breakthrough. Right now I'm more concerned about Boris being an obstacle than Hiwatari. If he decides to end future visits we'll be back to square one. But leave my uncle to me. I'll figure out a way to get you back in there. You just focus on Hiwatari."_

"Yes, Sir."

"_Speaking of which, have you figured out whose name it is he gave you?"_

Tala sat down at the low table, staring at the name written on the otherwise blank piece of paper.

"I haven't found anything on this guy."

"_Speaking from experience: maybe it's not as straightforward as it seems," _Bryan offered. _"Giving straight answers isn't Hiwatari's style, but I don't think he's given you a false lead here, either."_

"Me neither. That would be … too rude of him," Tala said, rolling his eyes at the thought.

"_Yes, he's quite a gentleman, isn't he?"_ A hint of amusement carried across the line. _"Don't let that fool you though. Always remember what he is."_

Picking up the paper, Tala stared at the four words.

"And what is that, sir?" he asked.

"_A monster. The real thing."_

Tala envisioned those burning eyes, windows to a cold, calculating mastermind.

"Will do. Anything else, sir?"

"_Not for now. Everyone's got a job to do so we all better get back to it."_

"Will do, sir."

"_Good luck, Tala."_

Something about the way Bryan said his name hinted at the desire for Tala to return to not-too-formal gesture. Tala was tempted to do so, to not keep up this wall between them.

"Thank you … Captain Balcov."

He chickened out, sounding more remote than before.

Seconds passed when neither spoke until a soft click signalled that Bryan had closed the line.

Staring at his notes, still gripping the phone, Tala felt something tickling down his cheek. He wiped away the tear with a frustrated sigh.

"Thank you, Bryan."

Wolborg came over, immediately noticing Tala's glumness, and licked at his hand.

"I'm alright," Tala said, reaching up to scratch the long snout. "I'm fine"

Wolborg managed to pick up a pen off the table using his teeth and offered it to Tala, urging him to continue what their afternoon walk had interrupted. Accepting the item, Tala rewarded his pet with a thorough belly scratching that left Wolborg's hind leg quivering.

"Now, if only you can help me find this Leotard," Tala said, tracing the name on the paper with the pen as Wolborg dozed off next to him.

Picking up the voice recorder, Tala pressed REWIND, then PLAY.

"—_Help me. Fill out the questionnaire."_

"_Like I said, that questionnaire is useless."_

"_I need answers, Hiwatari."_

" … _I really don't like this look on your face. I will make you happy again. But for now, go find an old friend of mine at the university ..._ _It's been five years, but I'm positive he's still there. Search for John Cristal Tricellar Leotard." _

STOP.

Removing the cassette, Tala replaced it with a new one. Reviewing certain points he had just written down, he stood and began to pace, as was his habit when thinking, before he started speaking into the device.

"January 13th, 19.23. Subject: John Cristal Tricellar Leotard. Have searched for Leotard in university files, with no results so far."

Stopping, he thought for a moment.

"Leotard does not work at the university. Given that there are no studies lasting more than four years, and Hiwatari's been locked away from five, I'd sooner assume that this person would be a staff member permanently employed there, rather than a student."

Writing down the thought, he began to analyze Hiwatari's words.

"Hiwatari used the words 'search' … and 'find'. I'd expect to 'meet' a person, not 'search' for one. If I'm looking for him, then does that mean he's not expecting anyone to come looking for him? Or was Hiwatari really talking about an item, not a person? But how could an item give me answers? Unless it's a book, or a journal …

"Whoever, or whatever, Leotard is, Hiwatari was acquainted with it. He is certain that this person or item is still where he had last seen it … and that no one else knows of it. So then, it can't be a person. He must have meant some sort of item, most likely something he himself hid before his incarceration. The question is: where?"

Or maybe this name belong to an accomplice who knew where to find this thing? The name was an unusual one, after all, and could very well be a pseudonym. The university was very big, but he couldn't imagine there being lots of places where someone could hide something that no one would ever happen across. Janitors, for example, usually knew every inch of the institutes they worked in. Then maybe … could one of the janitors be Hiwatari's accomplice? A janitor would know where to stash away something that others wouldn't find easily enough. Like in a secret room. Or restricted hallways. Or the garage. Or even the …

Wolborg's head shot up when Tala fell to his knees and grabbed the paper.

John Cristal Tricellar Leotard.

John Cristal Tri**cellar** Leotard

And almost immediately, the entire puzzle fell in place right before his eyes. Tala let out a long breath as he began decoding the anagram.

"Clever, Hiwatari," he had to admit. "Very clever."

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	5. January 14

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Friday, January 14**__**th**__**, 2004 **_

_**Time: 11.02**_

"We had hoped never to see another police officer on campus again," Dean Dickenson said, the tip of his can ticking loudly on the floor as they walked. "This institute's reputation has yet to recover from last time."

Smiling sympathetically at the portly gentleman, Tala followed him up the steps of the red-brick building that was Tokyo Medical University. Despite the dean's concerns, they were constantly brushing shoulders with people as they walked through the packed halls. The students respectfully made way for the dean and his guest—or perhaps they were just afraid of Wolborg, even though he was on a leash and not the least bit interested in them.

"You've seemed to be managing well enough, sir," Tala commended, looking around.

"I believe you," Dickenson said, his bushy moustache glowing white beneath the hall lights. "Though this is a most unusual request. How did you come to know of the cellars?"

"The police have ways of finding these things," Tala answered vaguely.

"Just as with Hiwatari." Dickenson sighed. "At first I thought that some terrible mistake had been made. 'Surely, they've got the wrong person!' I thought. I knew Kai well, or so I thought. He was such a nice young man. Polite and intelligent, with a dry but appreciative sense of humour. To think that he will waste away in some bedlam. To think of the potentials he gave up. I cannot help but feel sad. Something happened to that boy. I don't know when, or how, but I do not believe that a human being could be _born_ with that amount of anger and aggression."

"Records don't recall Hiwatari having suffered any sort of trauma as a child."

Dickenson opened the double doors at the end of the hall, where the floor plunged down into a dark stairwell.

"And there are no records of Kai having ever displayed any violent behaviour prior to the murders," he reminded. "People are born with the capacity to be evil, but it must be triggered. The majority, like you and I, can live our entire lives without tapping into our darker side. But there is the significant number of people who, in a moment of weakness, forget what society has taught us to be and become what their darkest core tells them they are."

"It's hard to imagine Hiwatari having a moment of weakness," Tala said as they descended the steps.

Dickenson's smile was barely visible in the sparse lighting.

"We all have at least one weakness, Mr Ivanov: we are human."

Dickenson produced a bundle of keys, his podgy fingers singling out a large copper one as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The hall ended further down at an old door with a rusty lock.

"This cellar was used to house the supplies before my predecessor had it sealed. This is the first time this door has been opened in decades." The old hinges protested crustily as Dickenson opened the door with some difficulty. "It's just one long hall at the end of those stairs, but a lot of rubbish was thrown in here, without permission. There is rubble everywhere, so please watch your step."

"I'll be careful," Tala said, turning on the flashlight he'd brought along. A narrow, wooden staircase was revealed in the beam of light. The walls, which had once been pale green, were dark with grime and cobwebs. Wolborg sniffed at the stale air, eager to get started. "I think we can manage it from here. I've kept you from your duties long enough."

"If you want I can get one of the staff members to accompany you."

"It won't take long. And if something happens to me, he," Tala motioned to Wolborg, "is trained to get help immediately."

"I have a meeting I have to be getting to, which I fear will take longer than your investigation down there, so we won't meet again for today. But please, do inform the information office of your departure and leave this," he gave Tala the copper key, "with them. That way I know you made it out of here."

"Good luck with that meeting," Tala said, accepting the key. He began to carefully descend, testing each step at a time.

"Good luck with you too!" Dickenson called after him, then disappeared from the doorway, which he left open to provide Tala with some light for now.

Reaching the bottom of the steps without any incident, Tala shined the flashlight around the area. In the ray of light hung an unmoving cloud of dust, which cloaked the long abandoned corridor, giving it a hazy, surreal and very creepy look and feel about it. Broken bits of furniture and plywood and ceiling sections lay scattered across the floor, or piled on top of each other, or propped up against the walls. With every step they took, puffs of fine dust rose from the floor and swirled about their feet.

Wolborg sneezed, causing an explosion of dust particles. Tala's nose also tickled. Holding one of his gloves against his nose and mouth to filter out the dust, he trailed the light around some more, walking slowly as he tried to find some order and direction in this place.

Noticing a leaking hole in the ceiling, he shined the light upwards, searching for anything interesting, and thus failing to notice the broken chairs until he walked right into them. A sharp pain suddenly flared up in his right thigh. Cursing, Tala stepped back and saw a small dark stain of blood seeping through his pants: a jagged piece of wood from the back of a chair had stabbed right through the material.

"Wolborg," he called, not wanting his pet to fall victim to the same careless mistake. Wolborg had disappeared under a stack of desks, but he came trotting back, and immediately noticed the wound. "Yeah, we should both be careful."

Keeping close to each other, they moved on.

There was no reason to suspect there being anyone down here apart from them, but there was something about the gloomy, forgotten cellar that made it feel as if they were constantly being watched. With so many dark places, it wasn't hard to imagine that there could be someone hiding in the shadows, watching them go by. The silence did nothing to assure them that they were alone—it was almost too silent. An unnatural silence, as if something was trying too hard not to make a sound, like a person holding their breath.

"It's a university basement, not a haunted dungeon," Tala said to himself, speaking out loud to break the stillness in the air.

Walking the length of the corridor until they came upon another locked door, Tala doubled back towards the stairs, where he dug into his pocket and pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper.

John Cristal Tricellar Leotard

The rest of the paper was filled with scribbles and failed ideas, but at the bottom were four coherent words that he'd managed to wrangle out of the anagrammatic name:

Cellar third janitor closet

There were doors on both side of the corridor. Tala tried the right side first. None of the doors were numbered, so he just walked until he was at the third door from the stairs. It was partially hidden behind an old bookshelf, but its handle was within reach. To Tala's surprise, it wasn't locked. It swung inwards. There was just enough room for him to squeeze through. Wolborg's sensitive nose checked to make sure there was no hidden dangers within. He yipped and wagged his tail, giving it the all clear, and followed Tala inside.

Cobweb-covered shelves and cabinets lined the walls, and a long table divided the small room down the middle, leaving only just enough room to walk around. Mops and brooms and bottles and other objects (too caked with cobwebs and dust to identify) lay everywhere, unorganized and unwanted.

Which was the first thing to strike Tala as odd. The spider webs and mould and dust bunnies were to be expected, but if the cellar had simply fallen out of use, why did in here look like a tornado had ripped through it? Out in the hall wasn't at all organized, but he could imagine that junk had been tossed down here before the door had been locked. But someone had made a real mess of things in here.

The second thing to catch his eye and suspicion was that, whereas everything else in the small room lay scattered, the rusty rack bearing moth-eaten janitor uniforms was standing neatly in the corner. Wolborg beat Tala to the uniforms. Shoving his head between their dusty fabrics, he crawled forward a bit, then released an excited bark that brought Tala right over.

Pulling the dog back by its collar, Tala pushed the clothes aside—the dust made his eyes water and Wolborg sneezed—and shined the flashlight at the makeshift hiding space.

There, almost blending into the wall behind a curtain of webs, stood a large jar, its glass caked with dust. It had a weak chemical smell about it. His fingers smudged the grimy glass as he pulled the jar towards him. He could feel liquid sloshing about inside it, and through the smeared parts of the glass he could see that there was something else; something solid.

Using the heel of his palm, Tala wiped off some of the grime … and almost dropped the jar.

Next to him, Wolborg snarled, ears flat, and took a step back.

Floating in yellow solution—certainly formaldehyde—and a wild mass of long hair was the bloated head of a man. The skin looked spongy, having been so thoroughly soaked for so long that it looked like it was melting clean off the skull. By sheer bad luck, Tala had cleaned the glass before the face, and now found himself staring into the sightless, milky white eyes that were still wide, capturing the horror of the victim must have felt at the exact time of his death. The mouth was open, as if still crying out for help.

* * *

_**Friday, January 14**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 16.32**_

Tokyo Institute For The Criminally Insane appeared through the pouring rain like a dark mirage. Slamming the car door shut, Tala ran across the practically deserted parking lot, blinking against the cold water. He hadn't even pulled on his coat, or thought about bringing an umbrella with him. Soaked within seconds and subjected to icy January winds, he didn't see the man approaching him as he neared the entrance until they almost collided.

"Whoa, there," the other said, holding out a hand to stop them from bumping into each other. "You should be admitted to this place yourself, being mad enough to go out with no protection in this sort of weather."

It was Spencer, holding an umbrella which he was quick to share with Tala as they both hurried inside.

"I was in a hurry," Tala said breathlessly.

"I could guess that by your phone call," Spencer said. "I just arrived for my shift so I thought I'd wait here."

Indeed, Spencer wasn't even in uniform yet, wearing simple jeans and sweater beneath a sweeping trench coat. He looked very different in civilian gear. As he shook out and left the umbrella to dry in the coat room just off to the side in the reception, however, he gave Tala a serious look.

"I would have asked this over the phone, but you barely let me get a word in: why are you here? I know Dr Balcov has been in negotiations with Captain Balcov about more visits, but no visit has been scheduled for today, as far as I know," Spencer said, arms folded over his broad chest as he looked down at Tala.

"Sorry that it's so sudden, but I _have_ to speak to Hiwatari," Tala insisted, shivering in his wet clothes.

Looking over his shoulder at the two receptionists, who were dutifully typing away on the computers, Spencer motioned for Tala to follow him elsewhere. Not until they'd gone through the door at the end of the corridor and were midway down a stairwell did Spencer stop.

"There aren't any cameras in here," he said, explaining why he'd sought out this place. "Dr. Balcov is out of town for the day. Unofficial visits are against regulations, especially in this case. Anything that involves Hiwatari takes time, planning and precaution."

"Hiwatari will know why I'm here; just ask him and he'll tell you. It's important for the—"

He'd almost said 'case', which would have blown his cover. Everyone here thought he was just a journalist.

"That must be one fascinating paper you're writing," Spencer said, watching Tala struggle to come up with a solution. "I didn't know the police were so passionate about exam essays."

Tala panicked, but the smirk on Spencer's face wasn't a cruel one.

"How did you find out about me?" Tala asked.

"Now that I look back, the fact that Captain Balcov made the call should have been a good enough indication, but I figured that the police had already learned not to send anymore men over to interrogate Hiwatari, so I did believe that you were just a journalist with some very good connections," Spencer said, leaning back against the handrail. "Even after you left I thought that you'd move on and write other stories; that we'd never see you again. But when I brought Hiwatari his dinner soon after I saw it: that gleam in his eyes. I know that look. Reporters/journalists bore him: after your visit, his eyes were practically glowing. You weren't who you said you were, and Hiwatari must have picked up on that from the moment you step foot before him."

"Does Boris know?"

"I'd be willing to bet my goldfish that the only reason he let you come through without asking too many questions is because you're easy to look at."

It was cold on the stairs—it wasn't heated in here. Still, the shiver that ran down Tala's spine had nothing to do with the temperature.

"Don't take it personal," Spencer said. "Even I think he's a bastard."

"Then why do you work for him?"

"I don't, really," he said, pulling out keys and access cards from his backpack. "I deal with him as little as possible. Not that he cares: he doesn't like dealing with us orderlies, and he never talks with the cleaners. He probably thinks we would dumb him down if he spent too much time around us. But someone's got to keep an eye on Hiwatari. Dr Balcov once tried to replace me with a new guy, claiming that he felt that I didn't take my job serious enough and that I had befriended Hiwatari when I should be keeping him in his place. My replacement practically ran out of here, screaming, less than twenty-four hours later. The guy who tried to replace_ him_ went into a catatonic state after just five hours, and Hiwatari somehow managed to snap the arm of third temporary replacement while the staff was still wheeling out the second guy. Dr Balcov had no choice but to bring me back on."

"Hiwatari respects you, whereas he doesn't take Balcov seriously: must be a blow to Balcov's pride."

"Respect or not, Hiwatari knows that I'm here to do the job I was assigned to do, and he's fine with that," Spencer said, veering back to the main topic. "I may not like Dr Balcov, but I do follow his orders, and he didn't leave me with any orders to allow anyone see Hiwatari."

"Spencer, can I trust you?"

"To do what?"

"To not repeat what I'm about to say to you to Boris, or anyone else?"

"Does it have to do with why you're really here?"

Tala nodded, and when Spencer did too he knew that the man would keep his word. Keeping it as brief as possible without leaving out anything important, Tala told him about the police's ambitions to get Hiwatari to work with them on the Dox case, and how Hiwatari had led him to find the head, which was currently in the hands of forensics. The way Spencer kept nodding along was encouraging, but when Tala finished the blond wasn't thoroughly convinced.

"How do you plan to get Hiwatari to cooperate?"

"I don't know his motives, but he did lead me to the head, so he's taking this somewhere. Just half an hour ... a quarter of an hour even."

"But Dr Balcov—"

"If he knew what we were doing he'd either put an end to it or try to intervene. He'd want to be there during every interview, trying to be a part of it. And we both know how Hiwatari feels about Boris: there'd be no way I'd be able to work with him if Boris is with me."

"You're putting me in an tough position here," Spencer said. "I've been following the news. Dox is quickly finding a place for himself in the history books, and that's a recognition I don't appreciate, but … You really shouldn't be getting involved with Hiwatari. He'll always be too dangerous to handle safely."

"I won't be long," Tala swore. "Five minutes with Hiwatari, then I'll be gone."

Spencer sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I could lose my job over this … so you better keep this between us."

"Thank you," Tala said, bowing deeply. "I owe you."

"Uh-huh," Spencer sighed, leading Tala down the stairs. "But please don't pay me back with more dead patients. Dunga was always a handful, but I'd rather Hiwatari spare the others. God knows this place is crowded as is: we don't have any room upstairs for the eight remaining men in the Lair."

"I'm sorry about Dunga," Tala said, wiping his cheek in memory of the man's vulgar parting gift. "I heard Boris was livid about it."

"Don't know why, since he barely paid Dunga any attention, deeming him 'a run-of-the-mill madman with no style or intrigue'."

"Has Hiwatari said anything about it?"

"Dr. Balcov spent about an hour shouting at him for answers," Spencer said. "He tried threatening Hiwatari, only to be threatened in return. He tried bribing him, only to be mocked, and then threatened in the return again. I had to step in and ask Dr Balcov to leave because I could tell that Hiwatari was growing bored and irritated. So, no, I haven't asked him why he did it, but when I brought him breakfast this morning he asked me to wait while he folded his napkin into a paper flower to be placed on top of Dunga's coffin."

"Why?"

"He said it was unlikely any of Dunga's old relatives or friends—if he had any—would attend his funeral or visit his grave, so he thought it would be nice if Dunga was buried with at least one flower." At Tala's puzzled look he shrugged. "It may seem strange to you, but I wasn't surprised. I think the media got it wrong: if ever there was a walking paradox, it would be Hiwatari. His actions all make sense to him."

"Scarily enough, with his intelligence, maybe _we_ are the ones who just don't get it."

Inside the Antechamber, Spencer changed into his uniform while Tala stood waiting before the monitors, searching out Hiwatari's cell amongst the images. When he finally found it, it was too dark to see inside. Spencer came over and checked his bag again, then ran the procedures by him once more, adding a few more warnings in light of Dunga's death.

"He's been in a bit of mood all day since dealing with Dr Balcov yesterday, so tread carefully," was Spencer's best piece of advice before opening the gates.

Quickly passing the other cells—which were all deadly quiet, as if the events from yesterday had scared the inmates into submission—Tala slowed down as he passed the now empty ninth cell. In the overhead lights he could see a large dark stain on the stone floor and several bloody smears on the wall. But he could still hear the manic hissing in his mind. Half expecting Dunga to leap out of the wall at any second, Tala walked on … and found Hiwatari standing right behind the glass barrier of his cell.

"Enjoyed the rain, Officer Ivanov?" he asked, taking in Tala's soaked appearance. "This has been the first time I've smelled rain water in a long time."

"Who was he?" Tala demanded.

Hiwatari tilted his head.

"That's not a very civil way to greet someone."

"Good evening, Mr Hiwatari. Who was he?"

Sighing, Kai turned and stepped out of the light provided by the hall, disappearing to the back of his dark cell. For many moments Tala waited, but nothing happened.

"Mr Hiwatari?"

When silence was his only answer he too sighed, and sat himself down on the floor before the cell, weary and cold. The adrenaline rush of his discovery had worn off some time ago, but only now did he feel it.

The food tray above and to his right suddenly whipped out with a loud clang. An inmate cried out in either the second or third cell. Tala could see no movement. His heart still hammering from the fright, he cautiously got to his knees and peered into the tray to find a towel in it.

"Thank you," he said, using it to rub away the wet and chill that clung to his face and fingers.

"Pretty as you are, you're no woman, so why are you bleeding between your legs?" Hiwatari suddenly asked.

Tala glared into the impenetrable darkness, then at the stain on the inside of his pants; his coat had ridden up a bit when he sat down.

"It's nothing," he said.

"Is it? Took you a while to answer, though. Did it remind you of something you thought you'd forgotten for good? 'It's nothing' is an excuse you tell your first time lover when they worry about harming you as they take the last of your innocence."

Tala rubbed at his arms with the towel, pretending to be drying himself when he was really trying to get rid of the goose bumps.

"That's a crude assumption, Mr Hiwatari."

"It was an observation, not a statement. However, if I am making you uncomfortable I will not continue along that line."

"Thank you. I'd have sooner expected such things from Dunga, not you."

He winced at his own words, eyes straying to the empty cell next door. There was a moment of silence within Hiwatari's cell as well, but when the man spoke again Tala could hear the cruel satisfaction in his voice.

"I don't think we should be expecting anything from him anymore."

Tala wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

"You killed him," he said plainly.

"I'm not proud of it," Hiwatari said, and Tala imagined it had been regretful. But then Hiwatari coldly added, "I wish I could have killed him with my bare hands. I would have loved to feel the life slowly drain out of him. Because of this cursed wall I couldn't even see his blood flow. I could do nothing but settle with the sound of his skull cracking against the stone and the scent of his blood stinking up the place. Would you have liked to have seen it, officer? Would you have appreciated the sight of that vermin punishing himself for what he did to you?"

"Never," Tala said. Having Hiwatari openly dedicate the murder to him only deepened the guilt. "I never wanted him dead, nor am I grateful that he is. The man was insane. He didn't have any control over his mind, or his actions. And you're one of the last persons who has the right to judge who should be punished."

Hiwatari said nothing for such a long time that Tala thought that the man was angry and/or insulted at his lack of appreciation. But then the cell began to brighten as the light glowed back on.

"Thank you, Spencer," Hiwatari said, sounding genuinely grateful.

The cell had been stripped. All the books had been removed. The drawings had been ripped off the walls, leaving smudged tatters. Even the mattress was gone. All that remained was the fixed furniture. Hiwatari himself was sitting on the floor against the wall opposite Tala.

"Where are your belongings?" Tala asked.

"Punishment, you see, for punishing Dunga," Hiwatari answered. "Balcov does enjoy his petty torment. Once you leave Spencer will probably dim the lights again, and turn back on some god awful rock music, as ordered. Without my books to distract me, I have nothing to take my mind off that rubbish they call music these days. Do you think that this is more reasonable punishment, Officer Ivanov? In some middle eastern they cut off the hands of thieves to prevent them from stealing: should I have instead talked Dunga into just breaking his wrist, hands and fingers; preventing him from ever jerking off again?"

"What you did to him is incompatible with any written law."

"Some people get more than they deserve, others less than they deserve," Hiwatari said, stretching one leg out while resting his arm on his upraised knee. "Did Dunga deserve to die for what he did to you? Do I deserve this meagre punishment for what I did to him? Who's to judge? Who are the lawmakers to make the laws? They're just men chosen by other men to cast judgements on other men. All they have are manmade laws, written down on manmade paper. Just paper, officer. Imagine that. A single piece of paper, a few stroked of ink, can sentence a man to death. Isn't that something? In one country, a man shoots two people dead in a bungled murder, and is sentenced to death. In another, a woman purposefully starves her child to death, and is given fifteen years. And yet in another, a couple can be executed because they are of the same gender. What did he do to deserve his fate?"

"You just said that Dunga was 'punished' for what he ... "

A smirk tugged at the corner of Hiwatari's mouth.

"The head in the cellar," Tala said, realizing what that entire speech had actually been about. "What was his crime, and who decided his punishment?

"His name was Tyson Granger," Hiwatari said, finally answering Tala's first question. "An old friend of mine."

"Did you kill him?"

"Tyson was a fool, but one who provided me with a decent amount of amusement.," Hiwatari said. The sleeves of his grey uniform had been rolled up until his elbows; as he spoke he scratched idly at a red and yellow tattoo on his inner forearm. "I might have regretted his death, even though the discovery of his head did not come as a shock to me. I just tucked him away, just the way I found him, in that jar. I don't know where the rest of his body is."

"Did you know beforehand what was going to happen to him?"

"No, but, in hindsight, I should have realized sooner that his brazen attitude would land him in some serious trouble someday."

"Where did you find his head?"

Hiwatari raised his head to contently stare at the ceiling.

"Mr Hiwatari—"

"Tell me something, Officer Ivanov, what was _your_ first reaction at the discovery."

Adjusting his legs beneath him, Tala saw the milky eyes and blubbery skin before him.

"Frightened, appalled … confused."

"Confused? Why?"

"I came to you about Dox, and you sent me to find a severed head. Am I to believe that there is a connection? Did Dox kills Tyson? You've been here for five years: if Tyson died before your incarceration ... why did Dox wait until now to kill again?"

"Who said he waited? Tyson was reported only as missing."

"If it is the same guy, who murdered in secret, why go public now?"

"Practice, perhaps. He has almost perfected the art of the perfect crime: he is getting away with it."

"Thanks to years of secretly murdering people and stashing their body parts ... Do you know who Dox is, Mr Hiwatari?"

"I have my suspicions."

"Tell me."

"Oh, I don't want to go about accusing others. Innocent until proven guilty, isn't that the law's credo?" It hadn't occurred to Tala before that those red eyes hardly blinked: once they fixated on something, their intensity only increased with every passing second. "But since you are such a bright student, you don't need me to take the exam for you. You don't need answers: you need guidance. May I have the teaching material?"

"These are some copies of the files," Tala said, pulling out a thick folder, checking to make sure no one had accidentally left a paperclip or staple in there. "I was going to give it to you to study later, but with your cell this empty where would you hide it? If Boris finds it ... "

"That would be interesting. Describe to me the scene of Gao's murder."

Tala obliged, speaking carefully to try and convey the stench, the sight and the horror they'd encountered in the small kitchen. Hiwatari stared at him the entire time. Unable to hold the stare, Tala's eyes shifted constantly, but when he was done he watched and waited for Hiwatari's opinion.

" ... and behind the fridge, on the wall was a—"

"A message." Hiwatari raised his eyes to the ceiling, analyzing something before asking no one in particular, "A famous quote? No, rather let the actions speak louder than the words ... Just one word then. A list. He has a list of words, and is going through them one by one, week by week. A preachy killer ... Why must everything be so overly dramatic these days?"

Tala was almost envious of the ease with which the man had come to that conclusion.

"How were you able to work all that out?"

"Quid pro quo."

"Pardon?"

"Quid pro quo," Hiwatari repeated calmly, eyes still on the ceiling. "I answer your questions, you answer mine. I tell you about the case, you tell me about yourself."

The red eyes gleamed at Tala, whose mind screamed to him to decline. Without giving it further thought, he nodded, almost already doubting himself when Hiwatari smiled dangerously.

"I will go first then," Hiwatari said, stretching out his other leg. "What is your worst childhood memory?"

"I … " He hesitated.

"Quicker than that, officer. I'm not interested in your worst lie."

" ... The death of my father," Tala said as stoically as possible.

"Tell me about it," Hiwatari demanded, eyes shining.

"He was a researcher."

"Researching what?"

"Wolves. He'd spent months in forests far up north, following different packs and documenting their behaviour."

"Fascinating lifestyle."

Tala couldn't tell whether the man was being sarcastic or not.

"Someone who'd spent so much time around wolves would certainly have known better than to get himself killed by the pack, so how did he die?" Hiwatari asked.

"Poachers." Tala said. "We didn't know they were there. Both sides were caught off guard, but only they were armed. My father was shot seven times."

Willing himself not to replay the scenes he'd witnessed that day, Tala distracted himself by not taking his eyes of Hiwatari's. The other said nothing for a short while, allowing for a moment of respectful silence, though Tala was certain he saw an amused twitch of the other's lips.

"You were there as well?" Hiwatari asked.

"It was my first time. My father's colleagues reached us in time to save me, but my father ... "

"Your mother?"

"Never knew her," Tala said frostily.

Kai closed his eyes.

"Thank you, officer."

"Quid pro quoi, Mr Hiwatari," Tala said, releasing a long breathe, glad to have made it through that unpleasant stroll down memory lane.

"What words did Dox use?"

"Greed, for Ginko, and gluttony, for Gao."

"How interesting … Labels for their respective crimes."

"Crimes? They—"

"Were innocent, yes, yes." Hiwatari sighed and rose to his feet. Walking over, he waited as Tala placed the folder into the tray before picking it up and paging through it. "Even though Ginko may have been morally corrupt, he operated within the legal system. Gao's lifestyle was certainly offensive, but hardly worth even an official warning. I would think the words found at the murder scenes would be instantly recognizable, but clearly, sins have become so rooted in society that no one can single them out."

"Which sins?"

"After your father's death, what happened?" Hiwatari then asked, closing the files and dropping them back into the tray to favour crossing his arms.

Biting back a sigh of frustration, Tala dropped his gaze.

"I don't believe the answer is on the floor," Hiwatari said.

"I was sent to live with the brother-in-law of my mother. He was the closest thing to a living relative I had left. He'd divorced my mother's sister—my aunt—and remarried, but he and my father had been good friends even after mother's death."

"How long did you stay with him?"

"About a month."

"Why so briefly?"

"I ran away."

"Why? Did he touch you inappropriately?"

Spencer had been right: perhaps Hiwatari hadn't gotten enough of his murderous intent out of his system even after killing Dunga, or maybe he was still angry with Balcov's punishment, but the man was being uncharacteristically crude in his conduct today.

"No," Tala immediately shot down, insulted. "He was a decent man who did his best for me. He tried to help me, but I had to leave: I wasn't his responsibility, and nothing more than a burden. He had his own family who needed and deserved him more than I did. Quid pro quoi."

"Greed and gluttony are two of the seven cardinal sins of mankind, as claimed by the always reliable men of the cloth. The Seven Deadly Sins are also famously described in the great Dante's Divine Comedy. Dox doesn't pick his victims randomly. He has already selected each and every one of them, and is now making his way through the sins. Two he has already punished, five more are left."

"What are the other sins?"

"Pride, envy, wrath, sloth and lust." Hiwatari tapped the glass with his knuckle thoughtfully. "But he, or rather, the sins are out of order: based on degree, greed and gluttony are respectively the fifth and sixth sins. Pride is listed as first, being considered the most sinful of all."

"Does Tyson Granger tie into this in any way?"

"Granger wasn't killed for embodying a sin, but he does embody something. If needed, try some other old friends of mine, who, I assure you, are still alive and well. At least, they were when I last heard of them. It's good to know people, isn't it, Officer?" Picking up the files again, he pushed the tray through for Tala to put the towel in. "I have nothing better to do for now, so I will look through these. And you need not worry about Boris finding them."

Putting away his recorder, Tala's hand brushed against the spine of a paperback he'd bought at the airport. He always carried a book with him, in case of traffic delays or sleepless nights. He hadn't recognized the writer, and hadn't been expecting a great deal from the plot, but looking back at Hiwatari's empty cell he withdrew the book and placed it into the tray, on top of the towel.

"Not exactly the literature you're used to," he said when the bluenette simply stared at it, "but it might just distract you enough to block out the music."

Hiwatari stared at the book for a moment, as if he wouldn't touch anything that hadn't been written by Chekhov or Milton, but then he picked it up, turning it from front to back and back again with a reserved degree of curiosity. He was less reserved when he looked at Tala, who noticed the gleam in his eyes that Spencer had spoken of.

"A very thoughtful gesture, Officer Ivanov."

For a moment neither said anything but those red eyes continued to smoulder and Tala could no longer keep up the stare. He cleared his throat loudly.

"Thank you for your time, Mr Hiwatari."

"Always a pleasure."

Unable to resist looking back even as he walked away, Tala couldn't understand why he'd suddenly felt so flustered around the man. More worrying was that, judging from Hiwatari's look as their eyes met one last time, Tala had the feeling the man knew all too well what had changed between them.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	6. January 15

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 15**__**th**__**, 2004 **_

_**Time: 09.35 **_

"You look terrible."

Tala rubbed his eyes and squinted up at the clock on the wall. He'd been in the office for five hours, but other than a mess of crossed-out words and crumpled papers, he hadn't achieved much. Meeting Bryan's sympathetic stare, he put down his pen and stood to bow.

"This is nothing. You wouldn't want to see me after I've pulled an all-nighter studying for an exam," he said as Bryan dragged over a chair and sat down.

Returning the voice recorder that Tala had given him earlier, Bryan removed his badge and gun and placed them on the desk, as if getting them off his person would relieve him of his duties as the Captain for a few minutes.

"You're doing a good job. No one's ever gotten this far with Hiwatari."

Tala dropped his gaze at the mention of the name.

"I can't imagine why," he said, not checking his sarcasm.

Brian waited for Tala to say something, then said, "You _did_ ask for me to come here, didn't you?"

"I did, but you're a bit early. What are those?" he asked, staring at the files Bryan carried.

Bryan placed them on the desk.

"Apparently, Hiwatari was less insufferable before being incarcerated. He was very popular with his classmates and peers. Here are some old school records and background information on a few of them. Turns out Granger wasn't just Hiwatari's classmate: he was his roommate."

"Hiwatari did refer to him as an old friend."

"Yet the two were nothing alike. Granger came from a middleclass family. He lived with his grandfather, Ryu Granger, who ran the family dojo. His father and older brother—archaeologists—are constantly on the move, so we're having some trouble tracking them down to inform them that we've found Tyson … or, at least, part of him. Tyson Granger disappeared three months before Hiwatari's capture. Because there was no evidence of foul play it was suspected that he'd simply run away."

"Do you think Hiwatari did it?" Tala asked.

"Do _you_?"

Tala stared at the old school photo of a brown-haired girl, whose last name he only faintly registered as Tachibana.

"Yes," he said.

"We're trying to track down on the rumours that Hiwatari owned several journals in the past," Bryan said. "Those journals might be more valuable than anything we can find on record. Several witnesses claimed to have seen Hiwatari with at least two during his time at the university, but none have been found to date. Boris was able to get his hands on a lot of Hiwatari's belongings, under the excuse that he needed them for research, but has since denied having the journals."

"You think he has them?"

"I know he has them. By the looks of things, they didn't offer him the insight he was hoping for. I'm still on it, but Boris extended his stay out of town by a couple of days, apparently." Bryan mussed up his short hair, the mere thought of his uncle frustrating him. "Other than what Hiwatari had to say, have you found any ties between him and the Dox murders?"

He would have said no, had it been someone else. But, even though his theories were still in the works, he dared share them with Bryan, as he knew the Captain would take them seriously.

"About Ginko's office … " he said, gathering the crime scene pictures between the two of them.

"Yes?" Bryan encouraged, leaning in.

Surprised at their sudden closeness, Tala sat back.

"These pictures had to have been taken before forensics did a thorough search of the place, so everything here is in its original, untouched state." He lined up the photos, giving them both a panoramic view of the luxurious office. "Something in one of these photos doesn't look right to me. But so far I haven't been able to work out what. And then there's my other theory … I don't know whether I should be looking so much into it, since my main assignment is Hiwatari, but I couldn't help noticing that … "

"Every theory counts. Let's hear it, Tala."

Going through the pictures of Gao's murder scene, Tala placed one of each victim side by side. It was a gruesome display.

"Gao was forced to eat to death. Ginko was electrocuted. But, as if torturing them hadn't been enough, both of them had had their eyes gouged out. In some extreme cases, criminals blind their victims before the assault to hide their identity. Dox removed the eyes _after _the murders. He made sure the victims saw him, knew who he was, before killing them; what then was the reason behind carving out their eyes?"

"Trophies."

"I thought so too, but criminals who take trophies often do it because they couldn't get enough out of assaulting or murdering their victim: they want to own their victim, even after they've either released or killed them. Dox doesn't want to own his victims. They disgust him. He makes them suffer, kills them and moves on to the next target. If he's trying to purge this world of its sins, he wouldn't collect bits of bodies that supposedly embodied that sin."

"If he didn't take the eyes for himself, and it wasn't done to further torture the victims, then ... he's getting rid of evidence."

Tala passed him a photo of the items on Ginko's desk.

"Take a good look at the framed photo on the left," he said.

It was a photo of a woman with bright pink hair, smiling brightly, her arms wrapped around a grinning Kevin Ginko's narrow shoulders. Ginko's eyes had been scratched out with a sharp object, but the woman's eyes—cat-like in shape and a rare golden hue—had been circled with a red pen.

"That's Mariah Ginko, Kevin Ginko's sister," Bryan said. "Her brother's death left her shattered. She could barely hold herself together during interviews. But I never saw this picture of her and Ginko before. What do the circles around the eyes mean? Are we supposed to figure out what's wrong with her eyes."

"Her eyes are fine. Kevin's eyes," he tapped the picture, "have been scratched out: not only were they removed, but he's dead. This emphasized that Kevin can't see anymore. But then Dox draws attention to Mariah's eyes: unlike Kevin, she's alive and able to see. Has she been to the office since the murder?"

"Not to my knowledge. She asked us to collect Kevin's things for her because it would be too hard to go in there herself."

"She has seen something, or needs to see something. Dox knows this."

"If you want her number I could—"

"She's on her way down here."

"Careful, Tala. You're not yet a detective: you don't have the authority to call in people like this."

"She knows that, but she wants to help any way she can. If she changes her mind, I won't force her. I'm not going to tell her any more than she needs to know."

Before Bryan could say another word, the door opened. Michael's familiar black cap peeked into the room.

"Tala, she's here," he said.

"I asked Michael to join us as well," Tala informed Bryan as Michael stepped aside to let in, not one, but two people.

Mariah's hair was loose, her eyes were puffy, and her cheeks slightly hollowed, as though she'd lost too much weight too soon. She kept sniffling and wiping her nose with a handkerchief with one hand while her other arm was looped through that of the man walking next to her, softly coaxing her along. Tala didn't recognize this person, whose black hair was pulled back in an incredibly long ponytail, but the stranger's cat-like yellow eyes, identical to Mariah and Kevin's, was an unexpected coincidence.

"Have a seat, ma'am," Bryan offered Mariah, getting out of his chair as an offering.

"Thank you," the stranger said before whispering to Mariah, who nodded and slowly sank down into the chair.

"Mariah Ginko," Tala said softly, waiting patiently for her to meet his eyes. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Pink hair and golden eyes aside, she looked nothing like she did in the photo: her brother's death had killed a part of her too. "I am Tala Ivanov. I spoke with you over the phone."

"Yes … I … " She sniffed once, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry to come in like this. I … It's just that I thought that I-I'd be able to handle it. It's been almost two weeks and most of the shock has worn off but … "

"It's okay to feel the way you do, Mariah," the stranger said, squeezing her hand. "No one's holding it against you."

"I know, but still … " Again she took a deep breath, composing herself. "You asked for me, but can Ray stay as well? He's my best friend. It's easier for me to talk when he's here."

"Of course," Tala said, glad that Mariah has some form of support. "You already know Captain Bryan Balcov and Detective Michael Parker."

"Ray Kon," Ray said, properly introducing himself.

Bryan stood next to the desk, while Michael had taken to leaning against the window. Mariah nodded to them both, though she looked uncomfortable having their eyes on her. She gripped Ray's hand even tighter, and he patted it, calming her.

"Ms Ginko," Tala said, "I wasn't in Japan at the time of your brother's murder." She hiccoughed and wiped her eyes. "But going through these files I couldn't help but notice something. Have you seen this photo before? The one of the framed photo of you and your brother?"

Mariah flinched and looked away.

"It came up during the first interview," she said after a shuddering breath. "The officers asked me what I thought it could mean, but I honestly don't know. H-How am I supposed to know what that sick freak was thinking when he drew those?"

"It's okay," Ray said, allowing her to hug him and stroking her hair reassuringly. "They're not accusing you of anything."

"I'm sorry," Tala said, aware of Bryan's critiquing stare on him. "It's our job to catch Dox, not yours. But you might know something we don't. Tell me, are you familiar with that office?"

"I ... " Mariah nodded.

"How well?"

"When he first got it I was the only who helped him move his stuff in. And I did a bit of painting." Tears running down her face, she still managed a weak smile. "I sort of ended up decorating it more to my taste than his, but Kevin was always so engrossed in his work he didn't mind. What are those?"

"These," he slid her a stack of photos, "were taken of the scene of the crime, before anyone moved anything. As you go through them, tell me if you notice anything different."

"'Anything different'? Of course it will look different to me! Kevin was—!"

"Take a deep breath," Ray told her. "He knows all that, Mariah, I'm sure, but just try it." He picked up the photos and held them out to her. "Focus on the office itself. You know that place inside and out. Anything that looks out of the ordinary, you'll pick it up at once."

"Like if something's missing, or if something has been altered, for example," Tala added.

Mariah took the photos and began to shift through them slowly.

"It's been tough, you know," Ray told them, tucking a lock of Mariah's hair behind her ears. "We all knew the risks Kevin was running, becoming a defence lawyer, but he had an older cousin who was once wrongfully accused of a crime; the guy ended up spending six years in jail before being acquitted. Kevin made it his mission to defend others from similar injustices. "

Out of sympathy for Mariah, Michael silently rolled his eyes. But it didn't go unnoticed by Ray, and his calm demeanour changed. His pupils narrowed to mere slits.

"Everyone makes mistakes," he said firmly. "Including the police. Kevin just made sure you weren't sending the wrong people down. You stand for justice, and so did he."

Tala was about to ask something else, but then Mariah made a small sound.

"This … " She held up the photo. "This one."

Taking the photo, Tala placed it on the desk for everyone to see. It was an abstract piece of art hanging on the wall behind Ginko's desk.

"What's wrong with it?" Bryan asked.

"It's upside down," Mariah said.

"How can you tell?" Michael questioned softly.

"Are you sure?" Tala asked.

"Yes. It used to be mine, but I gave it to him when he moved into that office." She laughed fondly. "Kevin said it looked like a rainbow threw up, but he hung up anyway. I made sure he hanged it properly. I went to see him the day before he was ... The painting was hanging correctly: I don't know why he would have flipped it."

"Is it still there?" Tala asked Michael.

"We must have dusted it for prints, but got nothing, so we left it."

Stroking the picture with her finger, Mariah's eyes were beginning to fill with tears as she stared at the singed leather chair beneath the picture.

"Oh, Ray … " she sobbed.

"You did good, Mariah," he quickly said. "That's all Officer Ivanov wanted to know … wasn't it?"

"You may have given us an important lead," Tala agreed, standing to signal that the interview was over.

"I hope you find this man," she said bitterly. "I hope you find him and put him behind bars for the rest of his life. Execution would be too good for him. I want him jailed, and I want him to rot away, just like—"

"You're getting yourself all worked up again," Ray cautioned as she swayed on her feet.

"I am. I know I am," she sighed, placing a hand on her brow. "I'm sorry, everyone. I didn't mean to sound so … cruel. That's just not me. I just want Kevin's killer … I miss my baby brother."

Ray lead Mariah out, gently closing the door behind them.

"Well, that was an eye-opener," Michael said, picking up the picture and turning it every which way. "Seriously, dude, how the fuck can you tell up from down in these things?"

"Go back to that office, Parker," Bryan said, checking his beeper, which had gone off. "Dissect that painting if you have to. Dox touched it for a reason."

"Sure thing, sir. But can anyone tell me what the hell was up with Kon's eyes? I mean, I thought it weird that he and Mariah have yellow eyes—and their teeth are kinda pointy—but did you see what he did with his pupils?"

"He's a neko-jin."

"A what?"

"A neko-jin," Bryan repeated. "A distinct race of people said to be descendents from ancient cat demons. I was also surprised when I first met Ginko during a trail. Neko-jin are not known to be city dwellers. They're pretty reclusive, living in mountains in China, though there are small pockets of neko-jin communities across Russian borders as well."

"A preaching psychopath, Kai Hiwatari, cat people: this case is just fucking bizarre."

Tala met Bryan's eyes and he could tell that the Captain was thinking along the same line as he was.

"They're related," Bryan said.

"Who?" Michael asked, realizing no one was listening to him.

"That's why Dox took out his eyes too," Tala said to Bryan.

"Why?" Michael asked.

"Ray and Mariah are neko-jin, so Kevin must have been one too. Who else do we know from China who has something to do with this case?"

"Well, there's a guy on the fraud squad who's Chinese but he's not … " Michael removed his cap with a sigh, as though disappointed with himself that it had taken him so long to understand. "Gary Gao."

"The other tenants said he had friends and family back in China," Tala continued. "The neko-jin community here in Japan can't be a very big one."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Michael waved a hand. "If they were friends, then why didn't Mariah or Kon mention him? They were upset about Ginko, not Gao."

"That's what I'd like to know," Tala said, rising from his seat.

"By the way, Tala," Bryan said, "I would expect you to know this, but have you ever heard the name Ray Kon before?"

"No. Never seen him before either. Why?"

"Might make an interesting talking point during your next visit to the loony bin," Michael said, still studying the photo. "Ray Kon was close friends with Kai Hiwatari."

Tala found the neko-jin pair in the garage, just as they were getting into their car. As he approached them he kept hearing Michael's voice, endlessly repeating that parting sentence.

"Mr Kon!" he called out.

"Uh, yes, Officer Ivanov?" Ray asked, getting out of the car with a surprised look.

Close friends with Kai Hiwatari ... Tyson had been a close friend of Hiwatari, but Tyson was dead. Murdered. Here before him now stood a living acquaintance of the inscrutable sociopath.

"A word, please," Tala said, unable to stop staring at the man with some level of awe.

The cat-like pupils dilated and Tala knew that Kon found himself caught. Instead of questioning him any further, though, the man nodded.

"I forgot my wallet in the office," he told Mariah. "I'll be right back."

Tala lead him away from the car, though they went no further than around the corner.

"Sorry, but I don't want her any more upset than she already is," Kon explained.

'Focus,' Tala told himself. 'It's not about Hiwatari right now. Focus on the victims.'

"Mr Kon, were you by any chance acquainted with Gary Gao?"

Kon stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking away.

"Yes."

"You are aware that Mr Gao was murdered?"

"Kinda hard to miss, wasn't it?" Ray hissed.

"Yet you did not come forward with any information on him."

"Look, it's hard, okay?" Ray turned on him, cat-eyed and all. "I know you're just doing your job, and I respect that, but when Kevin died the police were relentless in their questioning. Mariah was barely keeping herself together, and they kept shoving photos of Kevin's body in her face, reminding her that he died horribly and that if she knew anything she had to come forward. And then, just when we hoped the worst was over for now, I wake Tuesday morning to find Mariah screaming on the kitchen floor, clutching the newspaper that had Gary's murder splashed across the headline! She spent the entire day locked in her bedroom, both in grieving and because she was scared the police were going to interrogate her all over again.

"Unlike Kevin, I knew the police wouldn't be able to link us to Gary as easily. To be honest, we hadn't had much contact with Gary in the past year or so, so it's not like we'd have been able to tell you a great deal. No offense, I know how the police operate: they would have drilled Mariah all over again, and I didn't want her to suffer through another round. You've seen her. Do you think she could handle that?!"

Tala remained calm, allowing the man to vent out his frustration and despair. Sure enough, once he regained his composure, Kon ran a hand over his face.

"Sorry … it's … They weren't bad men. They didn't deserve this."

"Can you at least tell me about Gary Gao? Who was he? What did he do for a living?"

"We were childhood friends. We're from the same village. When Kevin decided to move to Japan to study law Mariah refused to let him go alone, so she came with him. I only came with the intent to get them settled in, but I ended up staying as well. Gary and Lee came a couple years later."

"Lee?"

"Mariah's fiancée. He studied medicine and spends most of his time travelling the world. He'll be coming home soon, though. He and Mariah are going to get married in the summer."

"Give her my congratulations."

"I will," Kon smiled before sighing, suddenly looking tired. "I know what it is you want to know, officer, but I'm afraid we don't have the answers. Over the years we kinda drifted apart. I began my studies while Mariah and Lee moved out of the city. Kevin remained here with me in Tokyo but his work kept him busy. Gary just … went off on his own, I guess. We'd send him a Christmas and birthday card every year and he'd call us sometimes, but that was it. I guess what made his death so much worse for Mariah is because she feels guilty for not having tried harder to keep in close contact with him. At least, I know that's why it hit me so hard. You start thinking 'If only I'd visited him more often', or 'If only we'd invited him over'."

"Had he ever mentioned anything out of the ordinary?"

"Like?"

"A disagreement with someone? A neighbour? A fight at work or something?"

Kon scoffed.

"Gary? Fight? Nah. Gary was a big softie. Never hurt a fly in his life. He used to be bullied when we were kids, even though he was the biggest kid in the whole village. He never hit back, or even threaten them, no matter what they did. Mariah always told him that he had to toughen up and stand up for himself. Look, I support Kevin's job, but I can understand that he'd make enemies, but Gary? Never. He was a good man, through and through."

"I see."

"Er, look, Mariah's waiting and ... "

"Actually, I was wondering if we could talk a bit more."

"I told you, there's not much left to say about Gary—"

"I would like to talk about Kai Hiwatari."

The name struck Ray like a bolt of lightning. It seemed to upset him even more than his deceased friends.

"Why? You think he did it?"

"Unlikely, since he's still locked away. But I would really appreciate it if you could straighten out a few things for me. There's a café down the street where we can talk quietly."

Ray shuffled, looking increasingly uncomfortable, but cooperative.

"Sure, okay. But … why does this suddenly matter? What's Kai got to do with these murders?"

It was the first time Tala had ever heard anyone informally refer to Hiwatari by his first name.

"Right now I'm more interested in what_ you_ have got to do with Hiwatari," Tala said. "Meet me in one hour."

* * *

_**Saturday, January 15**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 10.50**_

The small café was practically empty, just as Tala had predicted. Lunchtime was still an hour or so away. Finding a booth in the farthest corner, the two men had sat down opposite each other. Kon studied the pricy menu with some trepidation and despite all the secrets he'd kept from the police, Tala couldn't help smiling.

Aside from the tanned good-looks, Kon had a vibe about him of someone who was reliable and loyal. His strong compassion for Mariah, helping her through these troubled times, only reinforced this image. Then again, Kon had claws, and could use them when forced to. While he'd been surprised to learn that the two had been acquainted, Tala could now easily picture Hiwatari and Kon getting along. Kon was neither obnoxious nor pretentious, traits Tala was sure Hiwatari would appreciate in an acquaintance.

Tala accepted that he admired Kon for that, and squashed the stab of jealousy towards the man for having once befriended the untouchable Kai Hiwatari.

"I take it you aren't a regular customer, Mr Kon?" he asked when Kon went through the menu a second time, as if hoping he'd overlooked more reasonable prices.

"Please, call me Ray. And I can get an entire value meal at McDonalds for the price of a cup of coffee in here," Ray admitted, putting down the menu while brushing his dark bangs out of his face. Tala noticed the Taijitu symbol on the red bandana that had been mostly hidden by the man's hair. "I've never been here before. What would you recommend?"

Helping Ray pick something from the menu, Tala placed their orders, then got down to business.

"I'm not a reporter, nor am I trying to set up either you or Hiwatari. All I need are honest answers. For starters, when did it all start? When did you two meet?"

Ray played with the salt dispenser, keeping his eyes down.

"University. Of course, I knew who he was—anyone who stepped foot on campus immediately knew who Kai Hiwatari was—but I'd never dared to approach him, or even talk to him, if we hadn't been for Tyson."

Another shocker. Two of Hiwatari's old friends in less than 24 hours? It was almost a blessing.

"You knew Tyson Granger?"

"I met him at a martial arts competition during the summer. Tyson was a really outgoing guy. He made friends very easily, and even if he made enemies he was such a goof they'd let him slide. He was the forgive-and-forget type of person. Only, apparently he really ticked someone off and could joke his way out of it ... "

Only when Ray's smile turned sad did Tala realize that, for five years, the neko-jin had been holding on to the hopeful comfort that Tyson Granger was at least alive and well elsewhere. The newspapers were probably struggling to produce enough papers to keep up with the body count: the find of Tyson's head was the newest headline, but Dox was still too hot a topic to relegate to the inside of the papers. Tala was only grateful that his role in the discovery of the head had not reached the media. Yet.

"It was pretty obvious to us that something bad had happened to him," Ray said, swallowing with difficulty. "We knew Tyson wouldn't just get up and run off. We knew that, but you just kept hoping that he'd turn up one day. Alive, grinning that dopey grin. All this time … he was in that basement … "

Tala allowed him some time to collect himself.

"So, Granger introduced you to Hiwatari?"

"Yes. Tyson wasn't as popular as Kai, but being his roommate meant he hung around him a lot. Those two ... Boy, they were like an old married couple. No, more like a comedy duo. Tyson was always trying to get Kai to go along with his whacky ideas, and Kai would tell him to either grow up or shut up. Kai did consider Tyson a close friend, though. Probably even his best friend. At first I simply hung out with them because of Tyson, but after a while … Sometimes Tyson wouldn't be around, and I was cool with spending time with Kai. Eventually … "

Ray cleared his throat nervously.

"What?"

"Let's just say ... Kai and I started spending more time together, without Tyson around."

Barely registering the arrival of their orders, Tala stared at Ray, trying to put those words together in a sentence that made sense. Ray looked both embarrassed and amused by Tala's reaction.

"Of course, that sounds crazy now, officer, but back then I would have been considered crazy to turn down Kai Hiwatari," he said, timidly tapping the side of his plate with his chopsticks. "I was really flattered, actually. I'm not from a rich family—I relied on Kevin to help pay my way through university—and I wasn't one of the top students. I wasn't familiar with the refined, sophisticated stuff Kai was used to. But that's Kai for you. He kept his contact with wealthy students at a minimum, and thought very lowly of those who thought highly of themselves."

"How long did you two … date?"

"About a year. It … "

"It ended when he was arrested."

Ray nodded, staring out the window with a pained look.

"You say that as if we just stopped loving each other then and there, but that's not how it happened," he said. "What he did was horrible beyond description, but he'd never been anything but supportive of me, and I wanted to be the same for him. I wanted to be there for him, no matter what. But the revelation, and the media, and the security … I could never physically get close to him after that. He was always in handcuffs and chains and masks, always surrounded by officers. When I tried to explain to them our relationship, they laughed at me and told me to settle down and find a nice girl; to stop pining after a psychopath. They made it sound as if our relationship had meant nothing. Some even felt sorry for me, because they believed that Kai had deceived me into loving him."

Ray clenched his hand into a fist so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Kai _loved_ me," he said. "Nothing will ever changed that fact."

"But could you still see him in the same light?"

Ray's face softened again; his brows furrowed in anguish.

"The first thing I can remember is denial. I denied it at first. It didn't take long for people to start calling me up, asking me if I'd heard; whether I'd known what he'd been doing all along. I got so mad at them. I told them that it was a mistake; that the police must have given the wrong name. Even after the official statement had been made, I believed they were wrong. Kevin quickly offered to represent Kai. But then … "

Ray pushed his plate away, having lost any appetite he might have had.

"I couldn't convince the police to let me see Kai, but he could. He would not cooperate with them unless they allowed me to visit him in the holding cell. I was sure he was going to tell me what had really happened; that he'd been framed. But then Kai confessed." Ray looked as if hearing the confession all over again. "He looked me in the eyes and admitted everything to me, down to the last detail. He told me to tell Kevin that he didn't need a lawyer. He was going to step up and take full responsibility for what he'd done. He only wanted me to be the first person to know, because he felt that I deserved that much. He knew that I'd continue to insist his innocence if I hadn't heard the words coming out of his own mouth."

Tala was about to reach over to pat Ray's hand, but Ray folded his arms.

"Kai apologized to me, and I could tell that he was upset to see me upset. He told me he never meant to hurt me; that he wished none of this had ever happened, because he'd always known that, if he was caught, we'd never be together again. He told me that he didn't have any control over himself, and that he was dangerous, and that he'd feared that I … that he'd … and he said … he said … "

"I'd had my suspicions from the start," Tala said, thinking back on his conversation with Boris, "and I think you've just confirmed it for me. Kai Hiwatari wasn't caught: Kai Hiwatari _allowed_ himself to be caught."

Ray nodded.

"And did he do it to protect … you?"

"He said that I had been the only reason why there hadn't been more deaths. He said that, had he not had me, he would have gone out and killed more people. But when we started dating he noticed that he didn't get those strong urges to kill that often. When we were together, he felt he had some peace of mind. All that time I had thought that he'd been the one supporting me, but it was the opposite. He told me that he had considered us going away together, to a remote place where he wouldn't be tempted to kill anyone. He had seriously considered it, and had planned to do it once he'd gotten his degree.

"But then … the night he was arrested, after a safety awareness meeting in the auditorium, we went out with a few friends. I had one too many drinks and Kai had to carry me back to our place. I don't remember any of it, so I must have been _really _drunk. And that had irritated Kai, somehow. It wasn't as if I'd never been drunk before, and he'd usually put up with it with resigned amusement, but not that night. It … angered him. He said that, just looking at me in that state, he felt the same anger, the same rage that he felt whenever the urge to kill became too much." Ray looked up, meeting Tala's wide eyes. "He wanted to kill me."

"What stopped him?" he asked.

"He brought me inside, and put me on our bed, and went into the kitchen for a carving knife." Despite replaying what could have been the last moments of his life, Ray's voice was calm. "He said he had planned to slice my throat. He'd even placed the knife against my neck, and had been going through the possibilities of how to dispose of my body, when I mumbled his name in my sleep. It was like a gunshot going off in his mind, he said. Realizing what he'd almost done, he panicked and left. It angered him that he'd raised a knife at me. I don't know how the whole killing intent works, but it triggered another wave of violence in him and he ended up killing two other people who just happened to cross paths with him. They were students too, I think. They were just out for a walk … They died because I'd messed with Kai's head."

"Stop that. It wasn't your fault," Tala said assertively. "You almost became a victim yourself. Hiwatari knew it was his problem, not yours."

"As long as we were together it would be our problem, not just his. He was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop himself the next time. He decided that the only way for him to protect me was to be forcibly separated from me."

The waitress returned, asking whether they weren't pleased with their orders, seeing as they'd barely touched their food. Assuring her that they'd simply had a change of heart, Tala ordered two new coffees. He suspected she was new on the job, and eager to make a good impression on the rest of the staff. He could relate with that.

"Ray," he said once the waitress was gone, "was there someone, anyone at all, at the university at the time who behaved strangely around Tyson or Kai?"

Ray looked like he was going to shake his head, but stopped.

"Well, there was … Shoot, forget it."

"No, tell me."

"There was this one guy. He really admired Kai and tended to follow him around whenever he could; or he'd try to strike up a conversation with Kai, but most of the time he'd get too tongue-tied and quickly excuse himself. Tyson always teased Kai that he had a groupie. Kai never really paid the guy any mind, except for the occasional 'Hey'. There was something about that guy that we didn't like, though looking back now I can't really find anything really bad to say about him. He was just …weird. Almost as if obsessed with Kai, always trying to get his approval. Damn it, I can't remember his name … He was from a very rich family, and always wore a green blazer and tie. I think he played the violin as well."

A beep went off and Tala sighed, checking his pager.

"I am needed back at the station," he said regretfully. After hailing the waitress and asking for the bill, he wrote down his cell phone number on a napkin and handed it to Ray. "Call me anytime if you have anything else you want to tell me."

"Okay." Ray placed it in his wallet, which he'd taken out to pay for his uneaten meal, but Tala stopped him.

"This was on me."

"Kevin always offered to help me pay off my debts, and now he's dead. I'll never get the chance to pay him back," Ray said. His eyes seemed to dim at the thought. "Or the chance to thank him for all he did for me. No, I'll pay for my half, officer."

"That's one thing you and Hiwatari do have still have in common: you both insist on calling me officer."

Relenting, Tala placed his own money down and a hand caught his.

"You've … You've seen Kai?" Ray asked unexpectedly, a light returning to his eyes. "Why? H-How is he?"

"Ray, I'm afraid I can't tell—"

"Please, Tala, I've told you something I've never told anyone before, not even Mariah and Lee."

" … He's contributing—we hope—to our investigation by offering insight on Dox."

Ray blinked, surprised, then smiled proudly.

"He is? Wow. I didn't think he'd ever lift a finger to help the police."

"He doesn't make it easy," Tala said, then reminded himself to say no more.

"I understand, you can't say much about that," Ray said, "But … Could you do me a favour? The next time you see Kai, could you tell him hi for me, and tell him that I miss him?"

"I'm afraid I … " Though there were no rules against it, Tala didn't like the idea of relaying messages, especially since he worried that news of Ray could distract Hiwatari. But Ray was looking so hopeful, as if a rejection would shatter him, that Tala finally took pity on him and nodded. "I'll tell him."

Ray leaned back, staring out the window with a peaceful expression.

"Thank you. I just want him to know that I still love him."

Tala hesitated before sliding back in his seat, studying the neko-jin carefully.

"Ray."

"Hm?" the man asked, coming out of his reverie.

"You still have strong feelings for him, don't you?"

"Maybe not as strong as they used to be, but enough to want to give our relationship a second chance if it were ever possible. Not that there'll ever be a second chance, but just the thought."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"After all you've been through because of him, why do you still want him?"

"Because … I know that, beneath everything, he's the person I fell in love with five years ago. The mere fact that he regretted almost killing me, that he gave up the life he could have had for me, was enough to prove to me that he still cared. I don't know if he still feels the same way. Hell, up until a few minutes ago I didn't even know whether he was still sane, or had plunged into complete madness, being stuck in that madhouse." When Tala said nothing Ray gave him a curious look. "Why did you ask?"

Tala looked out onto the street as he answered, thoughts straying to Bryan.

"It's just a question I often asked myself."

"This isn't about the case anymore, is it?"

"I don't know what it's about anymore." Clearing his throat, Tala stood. "I really have to get going. Thanks for taking the time to talk, Ray."

"I'm actually glad we could talk," Ray said, shaking his hand. "I kinda feel better now."

Tala smiled as they walked out the door together, but once they went their separate ways his smile turned into a frown. Their talk may have put Ray into a more peaceful state of mind, but it left Tala's reeling.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	7. January 16

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Sunday, January 16**__**th**__** 2004**_

_**Time: 13.56**_

"You're already on thin ice," Spencer said as he systematically went through the bag nonetheless, from front to back, every pocket, even the linings. "I'm only agreeing to this because Dr Balcov isn't due back until the day after tomorrow, but he has a way of finding out about these things."

"Do you know what day it is today?" Tala asked.

"The 16th."

"Tomorrow's the 17th. Monday the 17th."

"You're expecting Dox to strike ... Do you think you'll be able to stop him, given what you've learned from Hiwatari?"

"No," Tala said honestly. "Which is why I'm going to have to press him for more information this time."

"Better not hold you up then. Let's go."

Tala followed Spencer into the Lair. This unusual escort was due to the fact that Hiwatari's cell was being cleaned. Tala was surprised that he was allowed in here during such an operation, but Spencer assured him that it was all under control.

"Besides, if Dr Balcov can lounge around Hiwatari's cell during cleaning and walk out unharmed, you'll be fine," Spencer had said earlier.

Perhaps he was right. Tala couldn't imagine anything getting out of hand, what with there being eight armed guards stationed in the Lair's corridor. Tala had never seen anyone in the institute with so much armour. Not an inch of skin was visible on the tall, muscled men as they were wearing full helmets and chest plates and chain-mailed gloves.

"Somehow, this makes me feel even more vulnerable," Tala said as they walked passed the guards, looking down at his plain civilian clothing.

Dunga's cell was still empty and Tala wondered who would be Hiwatari's new neighbour, if any.

"Hiwatari's a tidy person, so we only have to go through this process every two weeks," Spencer said. "And I had the cleaners bring in his books and papers to him this morning, which put him in a better mood."

"Sir," the guard before the Hiwatari's cell saluted, his face hidden by his helmet. "They're just finishing up, sir."

Two men, wearing bullet-proof vest over their cleaning uniforms, were mopping the floor while a third was wiping down the glass barrier. Two more guards were inside as well though in their hands they held loaded rifles, which they had pointed at Hiwatari's head, ready to pull the triggers if he made any sudden movements.

Hiwatari held his usual cool interested expression as he watched the men work. The lower part of his face was covered by a leather mask with small grills over his mouth; it chillingly reminded Tala of a muzzle used on wild dogs. The bluenette's hands were cuffed behind his back and his ankles chained together to a upright trolley, strong straps across his chest and waist keeping his back against the metal slab.

"There's no such thing as 'exaggerated measures' when it comes to him, Ivanov," Spencer said as he removed a bunch of keys from his belt. "He and I may get along, but I know not to trust that he wouldn't kill me for the most trivial reason. Remember that: no one is safe around him."

The cleaners finished up and quickly exited the cell. Spencer entered. The two guards on either side of Hiwatari slowly backed off towards the door, keeping their guns trained on Hiwatari's head and chest the entire time. Alone in the cell, wearing only his white orderly's uniform, Spencer took the keys and began to undo the restraints. Hiwatari's eyes were on him the entire time, but Spencer neither looked at him nor spoke to him.

"Fucking suicidal," Tala heard one of the cleaners whisper to his fellow where they stood outside, watching with bated breaths.

"He ain't been hurt once, though," the second cleaner reminded.

"That's not to say that Hiwatari wouldn't try something. He attacked that nurse that one time during a check-up, remember?" said the third.

The guards said nothing.

With a final click Hiwatari was free of the trolley. Spencer took one step back, but Hiwatari remained where he was, his back to the slab, eyes closed as if asleep. The guards' guns clicked, but then the red eyes opened and Hiwatari stepped forward. Spencer walked behind him and began to undo his handcuffs, which were by far the most elaborate Tala had ever seen: even the fingers had been bound and forcibly clenched into a fist.

It took a few minutes before Hiwatari was free; the only thing remaining was the muzzle. Tala expected Spencer to remove it, but instead the blond held out a single key to Hiwatari, who took it. With practiced ease, he found the muzzle's lock at the back of his head and opened it. Releasing a long breath, Hiwatari removed the muzzle and gave both it and the key back to Spencer.

"Thank you," Hiwatari said, flexing his fingers and wrists, speaking in an amiable voice.

The guards' fingers trembled on the triggers when Hiwatari moved, but it was only to step to one side to allow Spencer to wheel the trolley out. Hiwatari followed behind him at a small distance, but stayed away from the door, choosing instead to stand by the glass and watch as Spencer locked up behind him. Entering a complex sequence of numbers, Spencer then swiped three cards through two slots. A light located near the top beeped green, signalling the all-clear. Two dozen locks automatically clicked shut all around the door. A loud blare ended the lock-up, confirming that the cell was once more inaccessible and inescapable.

The weapons were finally lowered as the guards and cleaners began to make their way out, leaving Spencer and Tala behind. Hiwatari, who had watched the last of them leave with a calculating stare, looked to Tala for the first time.

"Good day, Officer Ivanov."

"Mr Hiwatari," Tala answered.

"Is everything here?" Spencer asked.

Hiwatari looked around the cell, appreciatively eyeing his books.

"I seem to be missing a few sketches."

"Dr Balcov must have taken them aside to study them."

"Let him keep them. Very well. I'm in no need of anything else."

"Good. And you, keep track of the time," Spencer said to Tala. "Half an hour, tops."

"Yes, sir."

Spencer nodded to them both, turned on his heels and walked off, stopping once to check in on the inmate in the fifth cell before exiting the Lair, locking the gates behind him.

"Amazing, is it not?"

"What is, Mr Hiwatari?" Tala asked.

"How the highest of professions are given to the lowest of people. Balcov, for all his diplomas and PhD's, is incapable of understanding me. Yet Spencer, a simple man who was raised on a farm and came to the big city looking for a job, has been my warden for five years and can be in the same room as I am without having to fear for his life."

"He said he knows you'd kill him in a heartbeat."

"If the situation calls upon it, yes. But since there is no need to invoke such a situation, he knows I have no reason to even want to harm him. What about you, Officer Ivanov?"

"What? If I wonder whether you'd kill me in a heartbeat? You can answer that better than I can."

Taking a seat on the chair, Hiwatari picked up a book and with an enigmatic smile said, "I can, can't I?" and started reading.

Tala hadn't expected otherwise. Determined to make good of the thirty minutes Spencer had granted him, he opened his bag as he approached the newly polished glass. Taking out the photograph, he held it up.

"Do you recognize this man, Mr Hiwatari?"

The bluenette raised his eyes from where they had been deeply absorbed in the book, which happened to be the paperback Tala had loaned him last time. Giving the small photo a brief once-over, Hiwatari returned to his reading, giving away nothing.

"Five years is enough to change anyone, officer. I recognize that face, but I can't promise you that I recognize that man."

"His name is Ray Kon and he was your lover, Mr Hiwatari."

"If you already know him, then why did you ask me to identify him?" Hiwatari asked smoothly, turning a page.

"I spoke to him yesterday. He told me about your relationship, and the true reason behind your so-called capture."

Seeing that Tala was not going to let him enjoy his book, Hiwatari marked his place and set it down on the table. Rising, he made his way over.

"That must have been a long chat," he said, sizing Tala up behind the glass. "I thought you were after information on Dox, not about my past."

"The only way to deal with you is to know what to expect from you. Though to be honest, what Ray said you did … I would have never expected that."

Hiwatari looked at him hard, almost as if he was going to argue with that, but then his eyes drifted down to Tala's hand.

"May I see it again?"

Tala held up the copy of Ray's driver's license. Red eyes seemed to re-familiarize themselves with the pictured neko-jin's features before Hiwatari spoke.

"Yes, I recognize that man. Raymond Kon, age 19 when I last saw him. An average student who excelled in biology, had a fondness for martial arts and a weakness for chocolate." Speaking of his ex-lover must have sparked _something_ in him because he gave Tala a withering stare. "I would think you were above such lowly tactics as scratching at old wounds, Officer Ivanov."

"I didn't plan any of this, Mr Hiwatari. Meeting Ray was pure coincidence."

"Hn." Hiwatari turned around, starting towards his bed.

"Ray says hi."

Hiwatari stopped and looked back, which said more about his feelings than his face did. Giving nothing away, he stepped back towards the glass.

"He also asked me to tell you that he misses you," Tala said as he put away the photo.

"What serendipitous circumstance brought the two of you in contact?"

"Ray accompanied Mariah Ginko to the station, as a favour to her." Having regained the other's attention, Tala didn't waste time returning to the case. "I'd called Ms Ginko because I noticed something in the photos from both crime scenes."

He took out three other photos: one of Gao's mutilated body, one of Ginko's burnt body and the one of Mariah and Ginko's framed photo.

"As Ray's partner, you must have known that Ginko and Gao were Ray's friends; that they knew each other, but you said nothing of it to me."

"Did that hurt your feelings?" Hiwatari asked, humoured.

"More like my willingness to trust you."

"You know I'm holding back a lot of information."

"Yes. But why?"

Hiwatari came a step closer, once again sizing Tala up.

"If I told you everything, there wouldn't be any need for you to come back."

"Mr Hiwatari, I strongly believe that Dox will try to kill again tomorrow, on the 17th. There was a one week lapse between Ginko's death and Gao's, and given that Dox has gone about all this so methodically, it must be on purpose. Seven Cardinal sins, one every seven days. You have to tell me something. Anything."

"And then you'd have solved the mystery, and you'll return to Russia." Hiwatari pretended to give it some thought before deciding that, "I'm not too keen on that idea."

"Answers, Hiwatari. You're wasting my time, and time's running out," Tala said, leaving smudges on the newly cleaned glass as he pressed the three photos against them. "These pictures: tell me what you see in them."

"Tell me what you _think_ you see in them," Hiwatari asked without skipping a beat. He stressed the word 'think', as though already expecting that whatever Tala was about to say would be wrong.

"We have yet to find a shred of evidence that could help us identify Dox. He's too careful. He leaves no clues at the scenes of his crimes. And yet, in Ginko's office he drew our attention to the sister. We brought her in and asked her to go through some photos of her brother's office, and she soon spotted something."

"Dox had moved something." Hiwatari made a mildly amused sound. "Not very subtle. What was it: a piece of furniture? A painting? A book?"

"A painting," Tala said, not pausing to wonder at Hiwatari's sharp deduction skills. "It had been taken down and re-hung upside down, Mariah claimed. The forensic team went back to examine it yesterday. When they dusted the area they found fingerprints on the wall _behind_ it. They are currently running a scan back in the labs, looking for a match in the database."

"Do not tell me they are hoping those prints will lead them straight to Dox."

Placing the photos in the tray for the bluenette to study, Tala frowned.

"Shouldn't they?"

"It is no small wonder that the law has been unable to find him yet," Hiwatari sighed, positively exasperated by their ineptitude. "They jump to conclusions too quickly."

"Just as they'd jumped to conclusions when they thought they had caught you off guard?"

Hiwatari, who had been staring idly at the photos in the tray without making any inclinations to pick them up, fixed a look on him of an intensity level Tala had never experienced before. Hiwatari then picked up the photos, continuing on as if nothing had happened, but Tala knew that a nerve had been touched deep inside the man.

"Removing the eyes was in no way meant to destroy links," Hiwatari said. "It was done to ensure that you followed the right one."

"How so?"

"This is an undertaking far more elaborate than you would like to believe, Officer Ivanov. And Dox is making sure you unravel it the way he wants you to. To others, these are just murders. Brutal murders, with a sick twist of creativity, but murders all the same." Hiwatari leaned against the glass, the phoenix tattoo on his forearm fully exposed as he had his sleeves rolled up. "But Dox isn't so much about shock value as he is about value itself. He has a message to impart, and he has gone through great lengths to make himself heard. But, of course, there's the risk that his message could be misinterpreted."

"He's only giving himself more work: mutilated bodies are really hard to misunderstand in the first place."

Hiwatari chuckled and rapped his knuckles on the glass, as though wanting to do the same to Tala's head.

"Ignorance, officer, ignorance. Don't disappoint me like that again. What did I just tell you? Dox cares only for the message. To him, those bodies are nothing but the words he need to communicate with. And as we all know, words make up a sentence. Misplace the words, and the sentence risks losing its meaning. To make sure that doesn't happen here, he's patiently letting you read along."

"Ginko was murdered two weeks ago. I arrived one week ago. I 'solved' the picture just yesterday. Unless Dox has the ability to see into the future, I cannot imagine how he could have known that I was to join the investigation, let alone that someone would figure out the meaning behind marking Mariah Ginko's photo in time."

"And yet, it all came together so nicely."

"Again, you know more than you're telling me."

"Again, I prefer to keep you coming back for more."

Glaring, Tala stepped up to the glass, glad that it was there because the man's smug look was testing his self-control, and he knew that if he ever tried to go one-on-one with Hiwatari he would be carried away in a body bag. Still, even though there were enough documents detailing Hiwatari's psyche to fill a skyscraper, it was still difficult to come to terms with the man's complete lack of remorse or sympathy.

He slammed Gao's picture against the glass.

"Look at this man, Hiwatari. Look at him! This time tomorrow there might be yet another victim, another innocent person. And you'd let that happen? You'd withhold information for your own amusement?" Tala dropped the picture back into the tray. "One more visit is not worth another human's life."

Hiwatari laughed, so sharp and sudden that it startled Tala.

"A_ book_ is worth more than a human life to me. You, I'd say … " Hiwatari looked him over again, dead serious. "I'd say you're worth twelve, exact."

"You're delusional."

"You think I'm just trying to flatter you? Did you hear that, Dunga?" Hiwatari asked loudly, resting his head against the wall that divided his cell from the one next door. "Officer Ivanov doesn't think I'd kill for him. You can testify against that, can't you? … Can't you? Ah, I suppose you already have, indirectly."

Tala took a deep breath and walked away, running both hands through his hair before staring up at the ceiling. Cameras in all corners, but none that recorded sound. If they did, he would have had a lot to answer for if the guards ever heard that.

"I did not ask you to kill him, and I never would have, no matter what he did to me. It's possible that you've been wanting him dead for some time and only used what happened between him and me as an excuse."

"You didn't feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"If you want to talk to me, then look at me."

Turning, Tala waited. Hiwatari simply smiled at his expression.

"You act as though I act irrationally, but we're all the same, officer."

"_No_. You are a murderer. You are in a mental institute because you can't control yourself. You don't have a humane bone in your body."

"Au contraire." Hiwatari stepped back and held out his hands. "I am more human than you, Officer Ivanov. Just now, you considered it, didn't you? You wished it. If even for a fleeting second, you desired to lash out at me; to hurt me, somehow, someway. For that second, you were your most humane."

"I am not about to get into discussion with you on what makes us human, Hiwatari."

"Because you wouldn't know the first thing about it. You are what society made you: a tamed shell of what you could have been. What society wants you to be. Society claims to be for the best of humanity, but all it does is castrate us."

"Don't make me repeat myself, Hiwatari," Tala said. "Whatever problem you have with the system is not my concern. I'm not here to be friends with you. Are we clear on that?"

Hiwatari tilted his head to one side, expressionless but clearly in thoughts.

"I asked you a question," Tala pressed.

Slowly, a smile crept across the tattooed face.

"Then I suppose I'd better behave. I'd miss seeing you so excited."

"You will look at me as someone who's here to do his job, and nothing more, Hiwatari."

Hiwatari took so long to answer that Tala worried that he'd pushed his luck by threatening the man, but in the end Hiwatari focused once more on the case. Tala almost thanked the man for his cooperation, but thought better of it. Gratitude would only give Hiwatari an excuse to veer off track again.

"Two murder scenes that until now hadn't conjured up a single fingerprint," Hiwatari said, talking both himself and Tala through the theory. "Some 'strenuous' puzzling later produces an entire set of prints. Does that not strike you the least bit as odd? Ginko was Dox's first victim. Criminals do everything to eliminate their fingerprints at crime scenes, yet here is a professional who decides to stamp-out his identity at the beginning of his mission for the law to find him and bring him to justice." Hiwatari chuckled, shaking his head. "Honestly, Officer Ivanov … "

"Maybe you're overestimating. You're accusing us of underestimating him, but is it not possible that you're giving him too much credit? He isn't you, Hiwatari. It's not too farfetched to assume that his mind does not work on as advanced a level as yours."

"Why, thank you."

"I didn't mean that as a compliment," Tala sighed, looking away. "You're … All I'm saying is—"

"Of course, this one is not my equal," Hiwatari interrupted, sparing Tala a fumbling rephrase. "But, on your level, he is enough of a challenge to be taken seriously. He led you to those fingerprints, so it is safe to say that they are not his."

"Until that can be ruled out for certain, there's something more important than who they belong to: they have something else to tell us. Dox didn't need just bodies to get his message across. He stamped it out using those prints."

"A challenge?" Hiwatari asked. "A plea for help?"

Tala placed a fourth photo into the sliding tray. The image was a close-up of the dusted fingerprints, which sloppily formed two words: **Find me**

"Both, then," Hiwatari smiled, tilting his head this way and that as he examined the photo without picking it up. "He made sure it was hidden to avoid initial confusion. He wanted the main focus to be on the visible word, 'Greed', but went on to drop hints to look further for more clues. Judging by this message, Dox has cordially invited you to his next victim."

"What? You mean he has already killed someone? Who—"

The iron gates at the end of the hall slammed open and prowling out into the Lair, flanked by three guards, was Boris Balcov. Even from here Tala could see the look of outrage on the man's face, which only grew bigger and meaner with every step. He stepped back, but Balcov wouldn't grant him any space.

"Well, well, well. Back again I see?" Balcov sneered. "Taking advantage of my earlier hospitality while I was out of town? You think you're so clever, yet it never occurred to you that I could return earlier than expected? From what I've learned, this is the second time you've entered my facility to interview my patient without my consent, or even my knowledge. You're rather brash for a student reporter, aren't you?"

"Dr Balcov, if you want to contact the university—"

The back of the fisted hand caught him solidly across the face, whipping his head to one side before the same hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him forward.

"Don't insult my intelligence by trying to keep up this charade!" Boris said, painfully tightening his hold on Tala's hair. "I know who you really are. I am capable of doing my own research, and my, my, wasn't I surprised at what the results turned up." He glared down his long nose at Tala. "My dear nephew sends an incompetent teacher's pet to talk to my prized specimen? He went so far as to hire help from abroad to bypass me because his feeble-minded underlings were too incompetent to handle Hiwatari? You must have felt so smug, walking in here every time, thinking yourself untouchable and above my institute's rules; stealing information, like a little spy, and passing it on to the police?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed to Tala's bag, which one of the guards picked up.

"I'll be confiscating this."

Even with his neck at a painful angle, Tala narrowed his eyes.

"You have no authority to confiscate anything belonging to the police. That bag contains material that has nothing to—" He cursed when his head was jerked to the other side. Though he grabbed the man's wrist, trying to loosen the grip on his hair, he was unwilling to resort to freeing himself by violent means; Balcov would then had him forcibly subdued by the guards, and Tala knew he could not take on all three of them. He was in trouble; he didn't want to make an already bad situation worse.

By chance, he looked over at the guards and realized that Spencer was among them. The man's face was unreadable and unlike the other two he was not watching the scene, opting to keep his eyes on the empty cell on his left.

"Don't think that Bunin will be able to help you out," Balcov sneered, scowling back at the blond. "Thanks to your game, he has been relieved of his duties and will be packing up soon enough. Though it is also his own fault for not being able to resist your advances. Tell me, Ivanov, what was the bargaining price? To have been able to sway what was once my most diligent and responsible orderly, what did you give him in return? A quick fumble in an empty office? A blowjob on the stairwell?"

Spencer's hands fisted and he looked squarely at Balcov, offended.

"No such thing ever happened, sir," he said in a restrained voice.

"Well, I can't take either of your words for it, now can I? You are both liars! If I have my way I'll ensure you will never find employment again, Bunin. And you," he rounded back on Tala, but lowered his voice to a hissing whisper, "We are going to go to my office and we are going to settle this and, _boy_, if you think you'll be able to whore your way out of this one you have got another thing coming. If I had my way with you I'd … "

Tala first thought Balcov had left the rest of the threat unsaid for intimidation purposes, but the director wasn't looking at him. Balcov was staring straight ahead, at something behind Tala, and whatever he was seeing was enough to make the already pale skin go white. Balcov swallowed loudly and his hand relaxed, allowing Tala to pull himself free with little effort. Quickly stepping away from Balcov, he felt his back hit something hard—he'd backed up against the front of the cell.

On the other side of the glass, Hiwatari stood watching Balcov with burning eyes.

Hateful eyes.

Murderous eyes.

Even though he'd soon officially be relieved from duty, Spencer attempted to placate Hiwatari by holding up a peaceful hand, silently asking the inmate to back off for now. That Spencer, who had the least to fear from Hiwatari, was this tense at the inmate's behaviour spoke volumes. The other two guards had already drawn their weapons, as if expecting Hiwatari to break through the thick glass at any moment. Though he'd quailed at first, however, Balcov had all confidence in the cell's barrier, which bolstered his courage enough for him to smirk.

"Something the matter, _Kai_?" he asked, and, as if to challenge the other, grabbed Tala by the arm. Hiwatari didn't react to being called by his first name, but his eyes immediately lowered to stare at Balcov's fingers digging into Tala's skin. "No need to look so possessive. You don't have the rights to, now that I think of it. Here you were, enjoying your time with your fellow Russian, when that old lover of yours continues to send letters and make calls to this institute, begging for a visit. Which is pathetically degrading, even for a dirty chink."

Hiwatari's palm hit the barrier with such force it sounded like a gunshot. Someone in one of the cells shrieked, making another laugh. Boris quickly backed away, dragging Tala with him while the two guards stepped forward, guns clicking and nuzzles aimed at Hiwatari's head.

"Step back, Hiwatari," one of them commanded loudly, but the bluenette continued to glare at Boris. "I said step back!"

"Lower your weapons," Spencer said, automatically taking control of the situation as he stepped in front of his colleagues. "He can't break through the glass, and neither can your bullets. Don't waste energy and ammo." He then turned to Hiwatari and called his surname a couple of times, patiently waiting until he finally got through to the inmate, who blinked out of his rage to coolly meet Spencer's eyes. "Best if you just drop it, Hiwatari. You can't get to him, and you'll only get yourself worked up. Walk it off."

After a brief but tense wait, Hiwatari did as advised and turned away. One of the guard patted Spencer on the shoulder while the other nodded in appreciation, but Balcov was unimpressed.

"Hirano, Asano," he snapped at the two guards, "escort Bunin out of here and see to it he gathers his belongings and leaves the premises within an hour."

"Yes, sir," they replied unenthusiastically, and uncomfortably motioned for Spencer to follow them.

"Good luck, doctor," Spencer said to Balcov. He looked over his shoulder to where Hiwatari was leaning against the back wall of his cell, watching Balcov once more. Spencer said, softly so as not for Hiwatari to hear, "Be careful with him. He'll be in a bad mood for at least three days. For everyone's safety, it's best, for now, if you cancelled the medical check-up scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, as he won't be in a cooperative mood to—"

"You're still here?" Balcov asked, looking at Spencer as though he were nothing but scum. "You, who is no longer an employee, have no right to tell me, the director, how to run this institute, Bunin. I will deal with my patients as I see fit, and you'd better be gone by the time I'm through dealing with my nephew's little spy. Get. Out."

Balcov watched and waited until Spencer and the guards had stepped through the electronic gates. Releasing Tala, he marched up to the barrier, rapping it loudly with his knuckles, which wasn't necessary because Hiwatari had already resumed his spot on the other side. The two men stood as close as the glass would allow.

"And don't you start getting ideas, now that Bunin's no longer around to talk you into behaving," Balcov said. "Your part in this whole plot will not go unpunished. Until I find a replacement, you will have no interaction with anyone else. You'd better hope I find someone soon because, until then, no one will bring you meals or supplies."

"You cannot deprive your own patient food!" Tala said.

"Shut up, you—"

"It's alright, Officer Ivanov. I can go a long time without eating," Hiwatari said, surprising them both. He smirked dangerously, at Boris. "An endless cycle, isn't it, Boris? I've denied you much these last five years: answers, insight, fame, recognition, respect. In return, you've tried to take away everything from me, which makes me revolt against you, which makes you punish me, which makes me revolt even more, and so on. I was a good enough sport to go along with your antics because they amused me. Unfortunately … " Hiwatari rested his folded arms on the glass above his head and locked eyes with Boris, who paled. "Unfortunately for you, Boris, our little game has lost its appeal. You no longer amuse me, and when I no longer need something, I get rid of it."

Playfully rapping the glass with his knuckles, he smiled at Boris, who was sweating despite the cool temperature of the Lair, and backed off. The red eyes turned on Tala, who didn't know what to do; whether to even say anything to either of the men. The chance was lost when Boris—having noticed Hiwatari redirecting his attention to Tala—grabbed Tala and lead him away. Tala only managed one last glimpse of Hiwatari, who was still smiling, before he was pulled out of the Lair.

Three guards were in the Antechamber, but it weren't Spencer and the other two. They greeted Balcov, but the director only acknowledged them long enough to say, "No one is to go anywhere near Hiwatari. I want at least two people monitoring his cell at any given time from in here, but no one gets any closer."

"Sir, but … what about his food?" one of the guards asked.

"Let him starve!" Balcov exploded. "Shut off the water to his cell as well! He will get neither food nor water until that smirk has long vanished from his face! If he will not bend, I will _break _him! Do as you're told or you can join Bunin at the job centre!"

The guards bowed in fear for their livelihood as Balcov marched out, with Tala unwillingly following close on his heels.

He'd failed. He hadn't necessarily done anything to blow his cover—though how Balcov had known what to look for, he didn't know—and hadn't done anything police headquarters wasn't aware of, but he'd been caught. Judging from Balcov's reaction, there was no way he'd ever be allowed back into the institute, let alone anywhere near Hiwatari. Just when he'd seemed to be making some sort of breakthrough, he'd now lost his only reliable source.

Without Hiwatari's insight, they were on their own once more, up against Dox …

The walk up to the office was long and painful, but Tala could tell that Balcov couldn't shake off Hiwatari's words. Still, the man was able to summon back his anger once they reached his office. Whereas he hadn't offered Tala a seat the first time they'd met in here, he now shoved him down into the chair directly opposite his desk. Tala stayed there, silently watching as Balcov paced back and forth.

"I could take you to court, you know," Balcov finally said without stopping. "The police force is not immune to the legal system. I wouldn't even have to bother with the force. Just you. And my nephew, for having the audacity to even try such a thing. I could have Bryan stripped of his rank, and a few strongly worded letters to your real university will put a very ugly and damaging smudge on your future ambitions. You don't think I can do it? I have dealt with many lawsuits in the past, and I have won every single one of them. I have my ways, Ivanov."

"Dr Balcov," Tala said carefully, touching the tender cheek where Balcov had back-handed him, "you're talking as though the police's objection was to ruin you. I did not do this for personal gain whatsoever. Hiwatari is probably the only one who has the insights, the capacity, to solve the murders that have recently taken place in this very city."

Balcov stopped, his brows furrowing.

"You mean Dox?"

"Yes," Tala said, feeling a blip of hope that this would make Balcov reconsider. "Hiwatari's been reviewing the case along with me. With his intellect and … questionable sanity, he is better capable of understanding Dox's own mindset. We were hoping that he'd help us catch Dox before he kills again."

Balcov scoffed, then chuckled. Walking over, he leaned against his desk before Tala.

"Help you? You honestly thought Hiwatari would waste his time on helping the very people who put him in that cell?"

"It's not like he has much else to do."

Boris furiously slammed his hand down on his desk.

"That is not for you to decide! He is my patient! _Mine_! Five years of studying him might have been jeopardized by you poisoning his mind with such a trivial case!"

"People have been murdered, Dr Balcov!"

"People are murdered all the time, boy! You think that just because this one has decided to give his crime a bit of flare he is on the same level as Hiwatari?! You made Hiwatari lower himself to dealing with another idiotic slasher?! You think you know Hiwatari well enough to know his intentions. You don't! Hiwatari cares nothing for others. He couldn't care less if Dox killed off half the population of Japan!"

"Probably not, but he has given me several leads—"

"You … " Balcov calmed down, though Tala didn't like the calculating look in his eyes anymore than the angry one. His hands buried in his pockets, Balcov stared at Tala for too long before talking again, in a very low, very resentful manner. "Yes, I _can_ imagine that. I can see why he'd agree to lending any interest to this case. He did it for you. He did it for himself."

"Doesn't matter why he did it, so long as—"

"How long do you think he would have strung you along?" Balcov went on, still calm and calculating. "Others have tried to get through to Hiwatari in the past, and he never granted them a second visit. None of them interested him. Some probably amused him for a few minutes, but then he'd dismiss them without another look. And yet, you show up before his cell and he withholds information, just to get you to come back. I saw the way he watched you. I know when he wants something badly. And you liked that, didn't you? You knew the unusual hold you have over him, and you exploited it."

"I never encouraged anything between us," Tala argued. "He commented on it a few times, yes, but I was only there to talk about the case."

"I'm sure you were," Boris said in a demeaning voice. "So, it never occurred to you then, O Saint? Whenever Hiwatari became a bit difficult, it never occurred to you to tempt him? To offer him a glimpse of what he'd kill to get? Did you promise him that, in return for his 'help', he'd get you? Seeing how close you were to Bunin, you might have been able to convince him to open Hiwatari's cell for you for one night, when no one else was around."

Tala was at a loss for words for a minute, at a complete loss as to where Balcov could have possibly drawn such conclusions. Outrage boiled within him. That Balcov could stand there and accuse him of such perversion when …

"Do not confuse my morals with yours."

"What was that?" Balcov asked as Tala got to his feet.

"That's what this is all about, isn't it? That's what you're hoping for; that I use my body to get what I want."

Although that was exactly what Balcov had on his mind, he made a show of looking insulted.

"Now that I know what a whore you are—"

"While you might think I only got here by sleeping around, I know that I am good at my job and I am very good at reading people, Dr Balcov. You know you have me backed up in a corner, and it thrills you. You keep laying it on thick—threatening my studies, Bryan's position, the outcome of the Dox case—and you keep insisting that I will let anyone fuck me as long as it gets me what I want."

Balcov said nothing, but he was no longer feigning innocence.

"Well, I'm sorry, Dr Balcov, but it will be a cold day in Hell before I bend over for you," Tala sneered, grabbing his coat from where Balcov had tossed it on the desk. "And I _will_ be getting my bag back, and I will know if anything's missing. Tampering with such material is a crime, as is interfering with police work. If you want to drag this to court, know that, this time, you won't win."

Hard lips pressed against his. Stunned, he immediately tried to push away but Balcov had his arms wrapped tightly around him, fingers digging into his back. Tala's arms were pinned too close to his body and he could do nothing until Balcov pulled away, looking satisfied at Tala's livid glare.

"Well, I'm sorry, Officer Ivanov, but Hell just froze over," Balcov said, trying to force Tala back against the desk. Tightening his embrace until Tala was gasping to breathe, Balcov whispered into his ear, "Perhaps this will go to court in the future, but right now, right here, it's just you and I. Bryan isn't the only one in the family with a history in law enforcement: I served my years in the army and it wouldn't take me much to make you more cooperative. So, you can choose now, boy. I will even sweeten the deal more: one time, right here on the desk, and I will let you go without fuss. Refuse, and I will send you limping back to headquarters with a notice that I will be taking legal actions against you and Captain Bryan Balcov."

Tala said nothing, focussed instead on testing any possible escapes, though every move he made only made the arms around him constrict even more. He felt a wet tongue lick the ridge of his ear. When he pulled his head away he was pushed down onto the desk. Held down with one hand pressing his caught hands into the small of his back, he felt another hand caress the back of his thigh, moving up.

'This can't be happening,' Tala thought as panic began to creep in. Nothing he did could dislodge the man over him, and Balcov's hand kept getting bolder as it moved to the inside of his thigh. 'I can't let this happen!'

"It's not as though you are a virgin," Balcov cooed to him, resting his chin on Tala's shoulder, his voice coarse with growing lust. "You're used to such things. It won't hurt one bit, unless you make me use force … "

Again, Balcov kissed him, wrenching his head to one side to lock lips. The man's entire weight was now on Tala, and a hand had managed to squeeze its way between Tala's body and the desk, searching for a zipper or button to undo. He felt Balcov shake with laugher and the lips against his grinned.

"If it will make you feel better, you can pretend I'm Hiwatari. You must have imagined letting him have his way with you at least once."

Those red eyes, staring hungrily into his …

That voice, purring and growling into his ear …

The phoenix tattoo, glistening under a thin layer of sweet …

Those hands, pinning him down …

That body, rocking against his …

His name, grunted with every thrust …

Balcov's tongue, forcing its way into his mouth …

Tala bit down hard, catching the man off guard and inflicting enough hurt to distract Balcov. He felt the weight lift off him and immediately kicked out, aiming right for the man's crotch. Balcov went down on his knees, gripping his privates in agony. Tala pushed himself off the desk and struck Balcov across the face, returning the hit he'd taken back in the Lair. Balcov fell to the floor, spitting blood.

"You … bitch … " Balcov gasped as Tala knelt down before him.

"Is that what you'll tell the authorities, should you call them? That a 'bitch' did this to you? You forget: the people you'd be calling are the same ones who aren't going to be too happy when I get back to headquarters and tell them that you've effectively put a stopper on a very important investigation." Tala held up his hands, showing his bruised wrists. "I too can go to my superiors and tell them what you tried to do. Who do you think they'd believe? So, before you go running to report me, think very hard: if you want to retain you dignity, and not bring the entire police force down upon you, perhaps this little incident should stay between us."

Balcov huffed indignantly, struggling to sit up.

"The next time I see you, I'll make sure you won't be able to even walk away."

"Empty threats," Tala said coldly. "I think my business here is done. Thank you for your time, Dr Balcov."

He left the man writhing on the floor. He knew Balcov was too proud to call for anyone to help him, and he was confident enough that the director would do exactly what he'd said: nothing. For every claim Balcov would make, he'd be able to throw it right back at him.

The only thing Tala could think of as he stepped out into the pouring rain was a very hot bath to rid himself of the feel of Boris Balcov all over his body. He spat several times as he walked, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Only now that he was out of the compromising situation did he realize just how close a call it had been. If he hadn't caught Balcov off guard that one time he might not have had another chance to free himself before …

And what Balcov had said, about imagining him to be Hiwatari … It hadn't been too hard to picture that, and for a few seconds, Tala had lost track of reality at the image of the inmate over him. And that was just as wrong, if not worse, than the idea of being raped by Boris Balcov. Kai Hiwatari? Had he truly imagined, in great detail, what it would have been like to be pinned down by a certified mass murderer? No matter what Hiwatari's charm was, it did not erase his past. The man wasn't even remorseful about what he'd done, and it was very likely he'd kill again if given the chance.

"You just panicked," Tala told himself, analyzing his reaction. He almost never analyzed himself, but he couldn't just forget his poor taste in judgment back there. "Things were looking bad and you couldn't get out from under Boris and when he said that you, unwilling to believe what was happening in reality, latched onto the imaginary, if just to distract yourself from what was really about to happen. You knew it was all pretend, which is why you didn't mind it being Hiwatari, because that would never happen in real life. _Never_. That's all it was."

By the time he reached his car he was thoroughly soaked, but at least his conscience was clear. But he didn't have his bag, in which were, among other things, his keys. Standing out in the pouring rain, with not even his cell phone to call for assistance, Tala lost the little composure he'd regained since lashing out at Balcov.

"Fuck!" he shouted, banging his fists on the car roof. "Fuck this!"

He leaned back against the side of the car, staring up into incoming rain drops, trying to think up a way to get back to the station, but it seemed impossible to think of anything except how everything was unravelling around him. Staring at the rippling puddle he was standing in, he suddenly felt exhausted, out of ideas, as though his mind had been wiped clean. Was it a breakdown? Had it all been too much? Was he losing his mind … ?

'Luckily, there's an asylum just a few metres away,' he thought sardonically. 'Boris would be thrilled to see me brought back in, in a vegetative state.'

"Hey."

Tala looked down at the plastic bag that was pushed into his hands, then up at the person who'd stood before him, holding a large umbrella over the both of them.

"I figured you'd need them," Spencer said, smiling faintly.

Tala looked in it to find his keys, his cell phone, some of his notes … and the case files he only just remembered he'd left with Hiwatari.

"How did you get these back?" he asked.

"Boris may have fired me, but I'm still on very good terms with the other guards. I told them we should at least give you back your keys so that you could get home. Boris never really saw what you had in that bag, so we also took out what seemed like important papers. And I saw that you'd left a bunch of papers behind in Hiwatari's cell, so I went back to get them afterwards."

"Boris ordered the guards not to let anyone see Hiwatari for now."

"Boris was preoccupied at the time and, like I said: I may not be their boss anymore, but I still have there respect. I wanted to give you back you recorder, but as the guys pointed out, Boris knows you have one so he would expect it to be in the bag: breaking the rules may not matter to me anymore, but the others still work there and they already risked their jobs letting me bring these to you."

"Spencer, I am so sorry," Tala said. "This should have been my problem, but I ended up dragging you down with me."

"I knew the risks, and I took them. I have to answer for my own mistakes, but I don't blame you at all. Maybe, if I had been more strict from the very beginning, neither of us would be here right now." He sighed and looked back at the dark building. "It's not the cheeriest places to work, and the pay was bad, so I'm not too upset about leaving. It's a good thing I'm a bit of a miser: I have enough money squirreled away to support me until I get another job. My only real concern is … "

They both stared at the building.

"Do you think they'll be able to manage Hiwatari without you?" Tala asked, guessing they were thinking the exact same thing.

"No," Spencer said plainly. "Of course, if they ignore him and let him starve to death, they'll be fine. But he needs to be fed, and his cell needs to be cleaned, and he still has his medical check-up due: that will bring them in close contact with him, and that's always dangerous. When I went to get those files for you, I could tell that he wasn't happy about me being fired. I asked him to promise me not to hurt anyone once I'm gone."

"And … ?"

"He said he wished he could have met my pet goldfish, Lenin, and that he was sure I'd find a more worthy boss somewhere else. In other words: no promises. He's no longer my responsibility, but if anything happens to one of the staff members … They are good people, but Hiwatari doesn't differentiate between good and bad. It's just 'him' and 'everyone else'."

"Isn't there anything we can do?"

"You, no. I'm still trying to work something out. So, I guess this is where we go our separate ways." Holding out a large hand, he smiled. "It's been brief, but it was a pleasure meeting you, Tala. I wish you all the best with the Dox case. If we never meet again, take care of yourself, alright?"

"I'll try," Tala said, shaking hands. "Same to you."

"Goodbye, then."

Shrugging off his wet coat and tossing it onto the floor on the passenger's side, Tala slid into the driver's seat and turned the ignition. Spencer stepped out of the way to allow him to reverse and they gave each other one final wave before Tala drove off, glancing in the rear-view mirror until Spencer's bright blue umbrella disappeared behind in the rain.

"Thank you, Spencer," he said to himself, pulling onto the main road.

As he drove towards town his cell phone suddenly went off. He noticed that he'd missed several calls, and that they'd all been from the same number: Bryan's.

"Captain," he answered, not looking forward to this conversation. He could tell from the background noise that Bryan was still at the station.

"_Tala, did you forget your phone? I've been trying to get you all afternoon."_

"Yeah … I'm afraid I have some bad news, sir."

"_Then I'll go first with some very good news,"_ Bryan said, sounding as excited as he could allow himself to be in the presence of others. _"We've found a match for the fingerprints in the Ginko's office. We've got him, Tala. We've found Dox."_

Could it be … ? Could that be right? Just like that, they had their killer?

Hiwatari had said … Hiwatari had … Hiwatari …

"_Tala? What's wrong?"_ Bryan asked, bringing him around. _"The news can't be that bad … can it?"_

Stopping at a stoplight, Tala sat back in his seat. His vision was blurry and his skin tingled unpleasantly at the memory of rough hands holding him down. No matter how much he'd spat, he could still taste Boris Balcov on his tongue.

"_Tala?"_ Bryan was getting worried.

"There have been some complications with Hiwatari and your uncle …"

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	8. January 17 I: Sloth

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Monday, January 17**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 09.11**_

"_Get dressed and meet me downstairs in twenty minutes."_

"What?" Tala said sleepily, checking his alarm clock and not surprised to find that he'd overslept. He had had the roughest night in years. He'd tried working on what was left of his collection of notes; had tried searching for more information about the cardinal sins; had even resorted to television, to the most boring show he could find, in hopes it would help him sleep. When he'd finally nodded off at around six that morning he'd still been plagued with Balcov's voice; his hands … "Sir, what is it?

"_I'll tell you in the car. I'll be parked across the street from your building,"_ Bryan said. Tala couldn't tell from his voice whether he had good news or bad news to tell. _"Hurry."_

While Wolborg watched on from the bed, Tala quickly took a shower and pulled on whatever he could find. With just five minutes to spare, he grabbed the old briefcase he'd managed to dig up from one of the moving boxes, and stuffed all his notes and files in it.

"Sorry, buddy," he told Wolborg. "I'll walk you when I get back."

Wolborg whined, but remained on the bed as Tala headed for the front door. He'd just touched the handle when someone knocked.

"Tala, are you in?" a woman's voice called.

Checking his watch and seeing that he had a few minutes to spare, Tala answered.

"Good afternoon, Yuka," he said as he invited her in.

At the ripe old age of ninety-two, Yuka Satomi seemed an unlikely friend for someone his age. A lonely widow who was almost blind, she lived at the end of the corridor, living off the impressive life insurance from her beloved late husband, who, Tala had gathered, died almost fifty years ago. With no children to visit her in her advanced years, she'd made it her duty to know everyone in the building, most of whom often invited her around for tea or even dinner. She'd caught up with Tala in the elevator on his first night there, and upon learning that he was a foreigner and single, had taken to mothering him.

"Is something wrong?"

Yuka was squinting up at him, a tray with four bowls in her hands and her always-present bag of knitting hanging from the crook of her arm. Wearing an plain kimono and slippers, she looked like she was intending to stay for a visit.

"No, I'm good," he said quickly, holding out his hands to take the tray from her. "What's this?"

"It's some dinner for you," she said, following him into the kitchen with tiny steps. "It's the meal I made for you for our first dinner together. You really enjoyed it, I remember. It's still hot."

Tala placed everything on the stove.

"I appreciate this," he said, checking his pockets for his keys, "but I'll have to leave it for later. I was just on my way out, actually."

"Again? That's the problem with young people these days," she sighed, nonetheless hobbling back out into the entrance hall ahead of him. "They can't stay put for too long or they become restless. Everything just seems to have sped up in the last decade or so." She laughed lightly, patting him on the arm. "We old people just can't keep up anymore. You go on to wherever you have to be. I think I'll bake some more pies for Mrs Utsumi's daughter's birthday tomorrow. I'd have to go out and do a bit of shopping, though."

Though she'd managed just fine before she met him, Tala always felt nervous about her going out in the busy streets on her own. Because of her eyesight she couldn't drive, so she mostly walked. A small old woman wearing very nice clothes and carrying a big purse was an easy target for muggers (although she insisted that she'd never been robbed her entire life) and right now Tala could do with one less concern.

"Since you'll be out anyway, would you mind taking Wolborg with you?" he asked, already snapping his fingers. He heard a thump in the bedroom as the dog leapt down from where it had been asleep on his bed. "He can help you carry your groceries."

And keep any suspicious people at bay.

"Oh, that would be nice. I once had a dog of my own, you know? A little dachshund named Ginta. Such a funny beast. He lived rather long for his species, just like me!"

Wolborg trotted over, wagging his tail in greeting and going right up to Yuka.

"He has such a beautiful coat," she said, running a wrinkled hand through the long fur. "A half wolf, right?"

"More like three-fourth," Tala said, clipping on the leash and handing it to her.

"How rare. Did you buy him in a pet store?"

"No. I got him from a good friend of mine."

"That's a very caring friend," she said as Wolborg carefully guided her towards the front door. "I haven't met any of your friends yet, though. You've only been her for a short while, but someone as lovely as you must make friends easily. Or your colleagues, we could invite them over for dinner sometime. I'd especially like to meet this friend of yours."

"He's here in Tokyo," Tala said, locking the door behind them. "But he gave me Wolborg years ago in Russia, as a farewell gift."

"I need to get my coat," she said. Tala followed her back to her apartment. "Does he know you're here in Japan, your friend? You're very busy, but I do hope you plan to visit him before you go back to Russia. He would be thrilled to see you again. I have a friend in America who I haven't seen in sixty-eight years! We write each other all the time, of course, but we're both too old to travel to see each other now."

"Actually, I met up with him again my first day in Japan," Tala said. He didn't want to go into great detail about this particular topic, and luckily, Yuka didn't ask for any.

"That must have been a nice surprise for him," she did say as she shuffled through her door to take a coat off the rack. "You must have been so excited."

Standing outside with Wolborg, Tala went still.

"Yes, it was good to see him again," he said carefully. " … I missed him more than I first thought, which took me by surprise."

"Oh, never be surprised about something like that," Yuka said, stepping back out, sans her bag of knitting but her purse dangling from her arm. Locking her door and dropping the key into her purse, she smiled up at him, waving a bony finger. "To miss someone is to love them. I miss my dear husband greatly, but only because I loved him so much. Sometimes, you don't realize just how much you love someone until they're not around. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know."

Tala let her do most of the talking on the ride down in the elevator, thinking about what she'd said. He had, without a doubt, missed Bryan, but when they'd met up again at headquarters he hadn't felt as relieved, as happy, as he should have been. Did that mean that he'd truly fallen out of love with Bryan since their split?

'That does not matter right now,' he told himself as he waved after Yuka and Wolborg outside on the sidewalk. 'I made it clear to Bryan where we stand in this relationship. Just friends.'

A beep drew his attention to the white car parked across the street. Wrapping his coat around him, he quickly crossed the street and got in.

"Looks like Wolborg turned out to be more useful then I had hoped," Bryan said, watching Wolborg and Yuka in the rear-view mirror. "Who's the senior?"

"A neighbour of mine," Tala said, watching along with Bryan as the two disappeared around the corner. He kept his eyes averted afterwards, though he could feel Bryan's on him the whole time. "I didn't get to walk Wolborg today, and it's safer for Yuka to have him with her when she goes out."

"He looks good," Bryan said. He reached over and opened the glove compartment. "Here's another present I thought you'd like."

It was a new recorder, ready for use.

"Thanks."

"We'll get your old one back," Bryan promised as he pulled out into the slow traffic. "Once I get a hold of Boris."

"Nothing yet?" Tala asked.

"No. I tried calling him all of last night, and most of this morning, but he won't pick up. You'd think he'd be eager to rip into me now that he knows what we're been up to, but he's being unusually quiet. I expected at least one threatening letter by now. Either he's holed away somewhere, scheming, or he's decided not to take action."

Tala suddenly wanted to take another shower. He'd scrubbed himself the night before until his skin was red, and had gargled and brushed his teeth several times. He'd even thrown out the clothes he'd worn. At least, from the sound of it, Balcov had heeded his warning and opted to let things slide this time.

"Tala, you told me about him confronting you in the Lair, and about you arguing in his office … but you haven't told me everything."

"I told you what you needed to know," Tala said, fiddling with the recorder.

"Tell me what I _want_ to know," Bryan said, more sternly this time as he waited on a stoplight, one hand on the wheel and the other on the tall cup of coffee in the cup-holder between them. "You can't hide it, Tala. You're avoiding looking at me and I could hear it in your voice over the phone yesterday: you're uncomfortable discussing Boris. Did he do something to you?"

Tala pulled away when Bryan tried to place a hand on his knee, and remained quiet, more interested in the new recorder's features than answering. The feel of Boris' hand on his thigh made his skin crawl all over again and he squirmed in his seat.

"Shit!"

The sudden outburst made him jump as Bryan slammed a fist onto the steering wheel. He looked over to see Bryan gripping his head with the same hand, breathing hard, eyes narrowed. Suddenly unable to focus, Bryan pulled over to the side of the road and got out, slamming the door shut. Tala waited calmly, but Bryan remained outside, only getting himself more and more worked up. Tala got out of the car and rested his forearms on the cold roof. Bryan's back was turned to him as the Captain leaned against his door.

"He didn't get far," Tala said, speaking bravely. "A few touches, but I put a stop to it in time. The reason why he's been keeping quiet is because I threatened to report it to the police."

"I can't believe I sent you there … " Bryan said, staring off into space. "I thought that, because you'd be dealing mostly with Hiwatari, Boris wouldn't get the chance to try anything."

"He's an opportunist. Bryan, calm down!" Tala said when the man struck the side of the car angrily. "You had more important things to do than stakeout your uncle's office. Look, I dealt with it, alright? What matters now is that we've lost Hiwatari."

Bryan squared his shoulders and turned around.

"You'd think that would matter the most to me," he said evenly, glaring across the street, not the least bit calmer. "This case demands my full attention, and I will do everything in my powers to stop Dox, but right now I can only … He _touched_ you."

"He'll think better of it next time."

"There won't be a next time. You're not going to go anywhere near him, ever. Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Why do you think? You think I wanted you, or anyone else, to find out? It's not something you rush to tell your friends, Bryan. It's humiliating and degrading." He sighed. "It's only because you know me so well that you found out, because I sure as hell wouldn't have just walked up to you and told you. And we don't have time for this, anyway. Forget Boris and worry about how we're going to continue without Hiwatari."

Bryan walked around and placed his hands on either side of Tala, caging him in against the car.

"I'm not going to just forget this. You're right: we have to deal with the case first. But the next time I get a hold of Boris I'll make him regret putting a move on my … " He looked off to the side, recollected himself, then said, "And that will be sooner than later. This case is as good as closed."

"What?"

"That's why I called you. The Dox case, we've cracked it. All that's left is to pick up the pieces." He checked his watch. "We need to leave. They'll be going in soon."

Getting back into the car, Tala waited until they were back on the road before talking.

"The fingerprints behind the painting, you know who they belong to?"

Bryan reached under his seat and pulled out a file. Tala flipped it open.

"Wyatt Ishida? Who's he?"

"He's had a couple of run-ins with the law in the past," Bryan said, steering the car onto a busy street, heading towards the docks. "Mostly petty theft. Strange thing is, the guy was a billionaire before he was even born. His father owned a very successful chain of department stores. Ishida had a very privileged upbringing, with more money than he could count. He was something of a minor celebrity here in Tokyo. You can imagine the press had a field day when he was arrested for the first time, stealing a motorbike."

Tala stared at the photo attached to the first page with genuine confusion. It appeared to be Wyatt's first mug shot, and despite having done the crime Ishida looked like nothing more than a frightened, naïve boy. Dressed in a smart green jacket and tie, with his brown hair neatly combed to the sides, he must have looked completely out of place in a cell.

"Here's something that should interest you," Bryan said. "Ishida thrived in university, only to suddenly drop out five years ago."

"Hiwatari was caught five years ago."

"And guess the university … "

"This is the guy Ray Kon told me about," Tala said, looking up. "He said that there'd been someone at the university who really admired Hiwatari. Green blazer and tie, this is him. Perhaps discovering that his idol was a murderer sent Ishida over the edge."

"Well, Ishida just stopped showing up for classes one day. His father died of natural causes not long after and left him his inheritance, which he spent on drugs. On his fifth arrest we had him evaluated and the result showed that he was suffering from depression, but it wasn't enough to order him to seek professional help. He never finished his studies, nor was he employed. He just kept to himself and lived off his inheritance, bouncing in and out of the judicial system for four years before suddenly falling off the radar exactly a year ago. His last address was somewhere on the docks. Teams are already down there, preparing for a raid."

" … And you're sure the fingerprints in the office match his?"

This made no sense. Yes, it could be claimed that Ishida, having thought so highly of Hiwatari, could have followed in his hero's footsteps, but Dox's method was so radically different. Nothing at the murder scenes had even suggested Hiwatari. Hiwatari killed for the sake of killing: Dox killed to get a message across.

"It's him, Tala. We even found a link between Ishida and Ginko: Ginko once represented him in court when Ishida had been charged with drug trafficking. Ishida had filed a countersuit claim, saying that the trail had caused him much pain and suffering. Ginko succeeded in exonerating Ishida, but the countersuit was thrown out. Ishida very vocally blamed Ginko for not securing him that compensation money."

Why couldn't it be so simple? He had the photograph in hand, along with the positive test results on the fingerprints, as well as a very plausible motive for Ginko's death. Even Tala was hard pressed to deny how well it all fitted, but what Hiwatari said yesterday …

" … _Do not tell me they are hoping those prints will lead them straight to Dox … They jump to conclusions so quickly … "_

"I don't know, Bryan," Tala said. "This just doesn't seem like a revenge-killing spree. Dox wouldn't have gone through all the trouble the killer did just to get back at Ginko. And this doesn't explain Gao's death, either."

"It could be that, just like with the drugs, once he killed Ishida just couldn't stop," Bryan said after some thought.

"Then explain why he burned 'GREED' into the carpet? It should be obvious that he planned more than one murder in advance." Tala closed the file, shaking his head. "This can't be right, Bryan. Ishida can't possibly be Dox."

"His fingerprints were at the crime scene, Tala. What more evidence do you need?"

Tala opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. Nothing he could say could dispute the fact that Ishida had been present in Ginko's office at the time of the murder. There was no other way to explain how his prints got there. Unless Dox had managed to duplicate Ishida's prints, which made even less sense because why would Dox involve someone like Ishida, a druggie and loose cannon, in his careful planning?

Hiwatari had said something about this … about the message on the wall … But Tala, try as he might, couldn't remember it. Boris had interrupted them at that precise moment, which was probably why Tala couldn't remember Hiwatari's exact words. And he didn't have his recorder, which should have captured the entire conversation on tape.

'What … What was it Hiwatari had said about those prints … ' Tala wondered, but all he could recall was Boris storming towards him.

"I can see where you're coming from," Bryan admitted when the silence in the car stretched too long. "One minute we've got nothing on this guy, and the next we've got his fingerprints, name and address. Even if you're in doubt, you've got to admit that such evidence deserves checking out. If Ishida turns out to be innocent, then he is. But if we go there and find further evidence … "

"Better safe than sorry," Tala said, knowing that nothing he said could call the operation off.

They reached the docks. Dark warehouses and dank trade shops scrolled past them on their right while the bay's dark water rolled in the strong winds on their left, the foot-high waves smashing harmlessly into the concrete walls covered in weathered grime. The skies had darkened with rain clouds and soon enough small drops pattered on the windshield.

Tala briefly thought of Yuka, out in this weather, but thankfully Wolborg was with her: he would bring her somewhere safe and dry to sit out the rain.

Marked police vehicles had converged between two warehouse, joined by two special ops vans. Uniformed and plain-clothes officer made room for Bryan's car as he manoeuvred it up alongside one of the vans. Shutting off the engine, Bryan released a short breath.

"Let's put aside any suspicion and just hope that Ishida's our guy, alright?"

"Nothing wrong with hoping," Tala shrugged, and they put stepped out.

"I'll be right back," Bryan said over the car roof, the rain already plastering his hair to his head. "Don't go too far."

Tala was just about to find some shelter against the rain but didn't get more than a few steps when an arm draped itself over his shoulders.

"Nice weather we're having, eh?" Michael grinned at him. Despite the serious atmosphere the American seemed to be in a very good mood. "The boss told you about the prints? Can't believe we got that son of a bitch."

"Neither can I," Tala said with little conviction, allowing himself to be led away from the crowd.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Michael nodded back at the throng of vehicles and officers, then at a derelict building just around the corner. "That's our target. The Special Assault Team's already inside. They've cleared out the other tenants and are currently moving up to Ishida's apartment. We've got the whole place surrounded, and no one in the building reported seeing Ishida leave before we arrived, so he must be in. He won't get away from us."

"I see," Tala said, studying the building, which looked like an old factory that had been converted into shops before being demoted to a shabby rooms-for-rent facility.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to get Dox behind bars," Michael frowned, letting Tala go. The rain rolled harmlessly off the waterproof jacket he was wearing, but he'd neglected to put on the hood, leaving his cap and hair exposed to the rain. "I mean, I guess it's a bit anti-climactic, just walking in on him and slapping a pair of cuffs on, but you said it yourself: today's the 17th. We can still catch him before he goes after his third victim."

"I want this done with as little bloodshed as possible," Tala affirmed. "If Ishida, despite my reservations, turns out to be Dox then I'll be as happy as the next guy. But I was brought here to work out Dox's mindset and there's something about this whole operation that doesn't make sense to me."

"Parker, make sure your men are ready," a passing officer announced. "SAT should be in within ten minutes. Once the place is secured you'll be able to go in."

"Ready to roll," Michael said, pushing himself off the wall, but Tala started to backtrack. "Where are you going? You're going in with us, aren't you?"

"I forgot my recorder," Tala said over his shoulder, heading for Bryan's car.

As anticipation reached fevered pitch, everyone was hurrying to get into position, criss-crossing paths and regrouping in order to be ready for whatever the outcome. Pushing his way through the crowd, Tala finally reached the white car, only to find Bryan already there.

"Where were you?" he asked. He was holding the recorder, shielding it from the rain with his gloves.

"Talking with Michael."

"I _said_ I'd be right back," Bryan said, rather exasperated.

Tala, who'd been reaching for the recorder, pulled back.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you mean 'What is that supposed to mean?'?" Bryan asked, surprised by the sniped demand.

"You're making it sound as if I need your permission to go anywhere. You're my superior, but even that does not give you the rights to decide where I can and cannot go."

Bryan tossed him the recorder, which Tala stuffed into his pocket.

"I didn't mean anything like that, alright?" Bryan said. "Sorry if it came across otherwise. It just bothered me a bit, when I came back and you were nowhere in sight. After what happened with Boris … "

"Will you just drop it? This isn't really the time to be thinking about your uncle. What, you thought he'd snuck all the way down here and abducted me? I was just talking with Michael right there around the corner."

"About what?"

Tala stared, speechless. Bryan, realizing at last how uncomfortably possessive he was being, looked shamed. The rain continued to pour, drumming loudly on the car roof until Bryan broke the silence between him.

"It's like I told you on your first day here, back at headquarters: seeing you in person … It just brings back memories, and feelings." He ruffled his wet hair. "You may not like it, but I can't control it, alright? I looked out for you for years. I protected you. And even though we're no longer together, the moment we met again, it all came back to me, and I wanted to protect you again. And instead, I sent you to Boris … "

"We have bigger things to worry about right now," Tala reminded, looking back at the target building. "Look, maybe we can talk about … _that_ later. First we have to—"

"I love you, Tala."

Tala cringed at the statement and refused to meet the other's eyes as he answered.

" I know. And I love you too."

"No." Bryan turned him around, gripping him by the shoulders. "I mean it. I love you. Not in the sense of friendship. Not because of what we had years ago. I _love_ you, Tala. More so than I ever had before."

"More than before … Is that why you did what you did to me years ago? Because you didn't love me enough back then?"

"No! That's not … It was never like that."

Tala shrugged off the hands, but Bryan cupped his face instead.

"Whatever it was like, it hurt me," Tala said, turning his head away from the hand. "Don't put us through this again, Bryan. If you really want to protect me, then leave things as they are."

"I can't. It took me every last drop of will-power to leave you once. After all you've been through, because of me, I cannot leave you behind a second time."

"You—"

Tala tried to shy away from the kiss, but he was pinned between Bryan and the car. He started to struggle at first, unable to think about anything but Boris Balcov's hard lips, but a sense of familiarity quickly took over. The type of kiss Bryan would give him only once day, at night, just before they went to sleep. Tala waited to feel the other's hand cup the back of his head, and on cue, he felt fingers curling his hair around themselves, just like the old days.

"I can make things right, Tala," Bryan whispered, pressing their brows together.

"You can't … " Tala said, turning his head to allow another chaste kiss.

"There's a way. There must be a way," Bryan said strongly. "We're not over. We never were. I'm the one who messed up, so I'm the one who must make things right again. I want you to be happy, like you once were. I can make you happy again, Tala.

"_I will make you happy again … Officer Ivanov … "_

Tala pulled back with a jolt, slamming into the car. Bryan, alarmed, stepped back.

"Tala, what—"

"Tala? Where are you?" Michael called just as he stepped out from behind the empty SAT van. Quickly realizing he'd stumbled onto a private moment, he bowed apologetically, looking uncomfortable. "Um, sorry to interrupt, boss … I was just … "

"I'm ready," Tala said, quickly sliding past Bryan, eyes down, and leaving both men to stare after him.

"Aren't you coming, boss?" Michael asked Bryan, who was cut off from responding by the sound of his cell phone.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Tala heard Bryan say.

Tala didn't look up when Michael caught up with him. He said nothing when they joined up with other officers, huddled under a tall tent against the rain. He tried to listen in as Michael gave quick, last minute commands, but there was only voice he could hear through all the talking.

'Hiwatari … Again, Hiwatari,' he thought. 'It was supposed to be a moment between Bryan and me, yet Hiwatari somehow managed to come between us … I've got to get him out of my head!'

" … okay, Tala?"

"What?" Tala blinked up to find everyone looking at him.

"I said," Michael repeated, "that even though SAT will have the place secured when we get up there, you must still be very careful. We don't know what Ishida might have up there in terms of traps. Don't go wandering off once we're in, and handle whatever you might find in that apartment very carefully, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

The rest of the team began going over their equipment one last time while Michael pulled Tala to the side.

"I can't have you spacing out on me once we're up there, Tala," Michael said. "You've got to focus. Whatever you and the Captain were talking about—"

"It's not—"

"—your business, but right now I'm counting on you to look out for your best interest and the team. One mistake can put everyone in danger."

"I know. Sorry."

Michael left him alone to oversee the others. Tala spotted Eddie and Steven under another tent, though they didn't look like they'd be heading in with the rest. Emily was not present. All they were waiting on was the all-clear from the SAT inside. To pass the time, Tala tested the new recorder, checking every new feature and making sure the tape was in.

He managed to get Bryan out of his head … but only because of another face …

'Hiwatari, why won't you go away?' he thought. 'Why can't I stop thinking about you?'

Actually, he knew why: like himself, Hiwatari had been sceptical about the fingerprints belonging to Dox. But Boris had barged in before Tala could hear more … or had he? Hiwatari had said something, just before Boris' arrival. He had quickly said that … that …

"What?" Tala asked out loud, resting his head on his fists in frustration. "What were you telling me, Hiwatari? What was it about those prints that—"

"Tala," Michael suddenly appeared before him, looking very pale. His expression alone said that something had happened, and not the way they'd planned it. "Let's go."

"What's wrong?" Tala asked, leaping to his feet and following Michael into the building.

"It's empty. The apartment's empty," Michael said, grimly.

"How so 'empty'? Did Ishida move out?"

"Don't know. I just got word from SAT. They broke in, but found no one inside."

"Maybe this is the wrong address," Tala said.

"No. The landlord confirmed that Wyatt Ishida's been a tenant of his for years. He doesn't live on the property himself, but he got Ishida's rent on time every month in the mail, so Ishida is still living here."

"So we missed him … "

And they all knew what that meant: Ishida was in the city somewhere …

"We're already mobilizing, sending out patrols, but his apartment has got to have some evidence we can use to track him down, so we're staying here to search it."

Police tape swayed in the draft on the ground floor of the building. The lighting in here was very poor, and Tala couldn't imagine any healthy human living in such a dark, decrepit place. It made Gao's filthy apartment look like a suite in comparison. The beams of flashlights carried by the other officers played across the dirty floor and cobweb-covered ceiling.

The upper floors of the building were once occupied by dock workers, and didn't look like they'd been cleaned since then. The current tenants were all poor, reclusive or small-time criminals who were willing to live in such poor conditions, so long as they had a roof over their heads and walls around them to hide their doings.

Turning down a hall on the third floor, they could see the splintered halves of a door at the end off the hall. It had been smashed open by the SAT's battering ram. Michael loudly announced their arrival, so as not to startle the well-armed men inside. Once he got an affirmative shout he motioned for Tala and the others to follow him.

Ishida's apartment was a significant step-up from the rest of the building. The living room was big enough for everyone to stand in, with room to move freely. A doorway across the entrance led to a kitchen which was being guarded by one SAT officer while the rest, despite having already established that the place was empty, combed through the other rooms.

"No traps," said a gravely voice, and both Michael and Tala looked down to find a purple-haired man with visors on his head staring up at them.

Though very short, Squad Leader Ian Saffin had the temper of a PMS-ing viper, as Michael once put it. His voice carried far when he wanted it to, and his small, maroon eyes were almost always narrowed in a leering squint. More than his voice, Tala remembered well that Ian knew anything and everything about firearms, and heavily favoured his customized M4 Carbine assault rifle.

"Didn't think Captain Balcov would let the newbie out on his own," Ian said, watching Tala, who didn't take offence because Ian wasn't known for his considerate words.

"What did you say about traps?" Michael asked.

"There are none," Ian said, shouldering his M4. "Ishida didn't leave any nasty surprises. I was sure we'd find some tripwires or timed explosives. Nothing of the sorts."

One of the men suddenly sneezed, making his colleagues jump. While he apologized to his snickering fellows, his reaction did bring something to Tala's attention.

The place was incredibly dusty. Their shoes left clear prints on the floor and a cloud of dust had been stirred in the wake of the SAT entry. Plastic-covered furniture were caked with greyish dust, but the place was very orderly, especially for belonging to a supposed hang-about druggie.

"What was that?" Michael asked as Tala recorded everything he saw into the recorder.

"Ishida paid his bills on time, but no one's lived here for months," Tala said as the others looked around. "Nothing in here has been touched for a long time, which wouldn't be possible if someone was actually moving about in here."

"Then where's Ishida been all this time?" one of the SAT officers asked.

"Sir!" came a shout somewhere in one of the rooms. "Sir, there's a door back here!"

"Impossible," Ian sneered. "We searched every room and there was no one. Parker, get your men outside! You, come with me," he said to all available SAT officers.

Tala felt a rush of adrenaline even as they were ushered towards the broken front door. He looked to Michael, whose eyes were as wide as his, though the American looked more exhilarated than nervous.

"I knew it. I _knew_ it!" Michael kept saying to his equally excited colleagues. "They got him now. No way he'll get himself out of there. Dox'll get what's coming to him, finally."

Even then, Tala wasn't appeased. It couldn't be … Hiwatari had said that the prints wouldn't lead them to Dox. But they had belonged to Ishida, meaning Ishida had to have witnessed Ginko's murder …

From behind several walls, SAT members were loudly ordering the man to surrender.

"Open this door, Ishida! Open or we'll shoot right through it!"

Silence.

'You couldn't have been wrong, Hiwatari,' Tala thought as he leaned against the wall next to Michael. 'Whoever fingerprints they'd turn out to be, you were certain they wouldn't belong to Dox … '

"Break it down, Kenzo!" Ian's voice shouted to someone.

"He better listen," one of Michael's men said. "Saffin's not trigger-shy. One wrong move from Ishida, and he's dead."

"Can't believe the bastard allowed himself to be caught off-guard," said someone else in the back. "After he went through all the trouble of practically inviting us to come find him."

Suddenly, something clicked in Tala's head, almost striking him numb.

"Shit! Michael—" he started to say, only to be cut off by a scream from inside.

"FUCK ME!"

Before long, a number of SAT officers returned to the living room, covering their noses and mouths as they coughed violently, eyes watering.

"Poison gas?" someone asked Michael, but he was listening intently to what was going on, as was Tala.

"Saitoh, take everyone out," they could hear Ian ordering. " Parker, get your Yankee ass in here!"

"Come on," Michael said, beckoning Tala along but ordering the other to hang back.

One of the more composed SAT officers led them into the bedroom. The walls were draped with heavy rugs, one of which had been pulled down to reveal a door, which had been forced open. Still at the first door, Tala could smell the overwhelming stench coming from within the dark room. Suddenly, light beamed in as someone inside pulled open a curtain to let in what little sunlight there was. From through the doorway, Tala saw the light gleam off of something on the wall.

"Dox wasn't inviting us to find him," Tala belated told Michael as they neared, remembering, clearer than ever, Hiwatari's words. "He invited us to find Ishida: his third victim."

Proving his point, once and for all, was the word written in the dust on the wall above the bed:

SLOTH

Michael coughed, also finding it difficult to breathe in the room, despite the hundreds of colourful air fresheners hanging from the ceiling. Some looked old and faded, while others looked brighter, newer. Though Tala could pick up a faint whiff of their sweet fragrance, it was almost entirely camouflaged by the unbearable stench of human waste.

Ian, battle-hardened and stubborn, showed no discomfort as they came up to his side next to the bed. Standing in a corner, however, was a young SAT officer who was still trying to come to grip with the sight that had met them when they'd barged in.

"I didn't say you could bring the newbie," Ian said, though with little interest in pursuing the subject. "Ever saw anything like this, Parker?"

"No, and I've seen ever horror movie ever made," Michael said, hand over his nose and mouth to keep out some of the smell.

Tala just stared at the bed.

Skin and bones. No flesh or muscle was left beneath the leathery skin that covered the body that had been cruelly tied to the bed with coarse rope. The corpse, which looked to be male, was naked save for a loincloth, under which the hip bones protruded sickly from a sunken stomach. The skin was blotched with countless sores and marble-sized boils, some of which had broken and leaked blood and puss that had trickled over bony ribs and under scabbed knees and between blackened toes. Tubes ran from under the loin cloth, between the emaciated legs and to the side of the bed into containers which were half-filled with dark liquids.

"Body fluids," Ian identified, squatting down, though keeping his face away from the putrid stench of urine. "Don't touch him, Kenzo," he warned his younger colleague, who was carefully leaning over the body.

Dehydration had shrunk and stretched the skin over the face, pulling back the cracked lips to expose rotten teeth and dried gums. A blindfold partially covered the mummy-like face, exposing an unblinking eye so deep in the skull that all that was left was a black hole with a ghastly glint at the bottom.

"Dox?" Kenzo wondered out loud, studying the lifeless face.

"Wyatt Ishida," Tala corrected him.

"But the fingerprints … "

"Came from Ishida's hand, which was all Dox needed," Ian said.

Using the muzzle of his weapon, he lifted the right arm for them all to see that at its end was nothing but a stump. The hand had been severed some time ago, and the wound had barely healed in the un-sanitized environment.

"How long do you think he's been here?" Kenzo asked, to which Michael, who had been searching through several shoe boxes next to the bed, answered.

"Weeks."

"What've you got?" Ian asked.

"Polaroids," Michael said, holding up a bunch of them and shifting through them. "Looks like they're dated."

"This top one is dated today," Tala said, picking the one at the very top of the stack. "January 17, 2004. Careful how you handle them: they're in chronological order."

Michael shifted through them as everyone looked on. It was a collage, starting from what was now on the bed and going back in time until they reached the bottom of the pile. The last picture (actually the first taken) showed a healthy, living but terrified Wyatt Ishida tied to the bed in the exact manner as he was now.

"Looks like he died around week thirty," Ian said, comparing the photos.

"No, the decomposition stage isn't that far along yet," Michael argued, lining the photos up.

"That isn't decomposed?" Ian challenged, pointing back at the body.

"This picture was dated exactly one year ago today," Tala said, focussed only the photo showing Ishida alive. "He's been here for exactly one year."

"Are you telling me," Ian began, sitting back on his haunches, rifle resting against his shoulder, "that Ishida was bound to this bed on January 17th, 2003, and that Dox just snapped pictures of him for an entire year after that?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Michael answered.

"He's been planning this for so long …" Tala said mostly to himself. It was _almost_ enough to be awed of Dox's capabilities. He looked to Michael and Ian. "I never … Can you imagine the will, the steadfastness it takes to keep a man bound to a bed for an entire year? To return perhaps once a day to feed him enough to keep him alive for another day? He knew we'd walk through that door today. He had it timed so well he could even sneak in here one last time to take that last picture, just to let us know that he beat us to a victim he'd already killed." He let out a small sound of disbelief. "It's just like Gao … "

"No, we found Gao the night he was killed," Michael reminded.

"How can that be if his neighbours noticed the stench, the smell of his dead body, days before the landlord finally decided to check in on him?" Tala challenged, surprised with himself that he'd never given it much thought. He knelt down next to the bed, staring at the deceased while Kenzo shifted through the pictures next to him. "Ginko was found on the third, but he'd been dead for about a day. Gao had been dead for days, but no one found out until the tenth. Ishida has been in this bed for exactly a year, and we only found him today, on the anniversary of when his ordeal all started. Dox has us, Michael. He has us wrapped around his little finger. He's had his victims in his sight for a long time. If we don't stop him, then four more people _will_ die."

While Michael and Ian had been listening thoughtfully to him, Kenzo had been comparing the photos to the actual corpse with a disgusted look on his face.

"This one wasn't murdered, technically," he said. "Dox restrained him, mutilated him, but didn't kill him. Infections and hunger is what did him in. Isn't that deviant from the first two murders?"

"Not if you keep in mind what Dox was 'punishing' him for," Tala said. "He accused Ginko of being greedy for power, so he electrocuted him. He accused Gao of being a glutton for food, so he force fed him and then ruptured his stomach. Being branded a sloth, Ishida did nothing with his life, so he was restrained, prevented from doing so much as getting out of bed, until it eventually killed him."

"Shitty way to go." Kenzo scowled into the skull-like face. "Didn't even overdose or anything. Must have been dying for a hit or a joint to—"

"GAERGH!!"

"FUCK!!"

Kenzo threw himself back when the cracked lips parted without warning, emitting a hoarse, croaking scream of agony. Ian leapt up, aiming his gun at Ishida, who began to spasm and writhe on the mattress, gagging and choking, opening his mouth wide to reveal the tattered flesh that had once been his tongue.

"He's alive!" Kenzo shouted as others ran in. "The son of a bitch is still alive!"

He then hunched over and threw up all over the floor.

"Someone get the medics! Get those medics up here, now!" Ian barked, commanding his men's attention as they stared, dumbstruck, at the living corpse on the bed. "And get Kenzo out of here!"

Tala, who'd been next to Kenzo but had not budged at all, stared. That's all he could do. His heart had skipped several beats, and it felt as though he'd forgotten how to breathe, but all he could do was watch as the dead came back to life. Almost face-to-face with Wyatt Ishida, he saw a tortured glint in the one exposed eye … and it looked right back at him. Ishida groaned, trying to turn towards him, trying to move towards Tala. Without a tongue, he could not speak, but he was so desperate for any human contact, he still tried.

" E … Eh … ee … " Ishida gasped as the sores on his dried lips tore open again. "A … eh … ee … "

Tala didn't respond. He didn't even move as Ishida somehow managed to shift his hand, trying to reach out to Tala.

"Let's go, Tala," Tala heard Michael say as a hand grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet. Even as he was led away he couldn't take his eyes of Ishida, who could barely turn his head to watch them leave.

"He … He was asking for help," Tala stuttered as he and Michael stepped out of the bedroom. "He was begging me to help him. But I couldn't … I couldn't help him … "

"That's not your job. The medics will be here any minute and they'll do everything they can for him."

"But Dox … I can't stop Dox … I should have helped Wyatt but I can't … "

"Tala, the guy's been in there for a year! How the hell would you have been able to help him? Even if you caught Dox your first day here Wyatt would still be in this condition. It's just the shock talking right now. Sit down and get a few deep breaths in," Michael said, bringing him into the living room where the forensic team had been let in at some time earlier to start their work. "Someone get him a chair!"

A chair was produced and Tala sank down in it, shaking badly as he replayed Ishida pathetic pleas for help.

"What happened in there?" someone asked.

"Ishida came back to life," Michael answered, his fingers twitching.

" … What?"

"Who would have thought it … Drier than a cork, covered in welts; all his muscles and organs rotten away, chewed off his own tongue … He just laid there the entire time, then suddenly woke up," Michael elaborated. "Scared the living shit out of us all."

Tala had somehow missed the medics arrival. Just barely getting his head round what he'd seen, he looked up as the medics reappeared, the gurney between them with five men simultaneously attending Ishida, injecting needle after needle of antibiotics and supplements into the left arm, which was the only thing visible. The rest of his body covered with white sheets and a mask covered his face, supplying him with oxygen and keeping his bald head warm.

One last medic followed the group, guiding the trembling figure of Kenzo, who had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. The man's expression was empty and he muttered to himself as he shuffled along, shaking and nodding his head at the same time, speaking nonsense.

Ian was the last one to reappear, rubbing his sweat-covered brown with a hand, rifle clutched in the other.

"He'll be on psychiatric leave for some time," he said, tossing his head in the direction in Kenzo's direction. "Your men find anything in here?"

"Nothing," one of forensic officers said when no one else spoke up. "No fingerprints. No possible weapon—"

"What kind of weapon can one possibly use to _rot_ a man to death?" Michael snapped, rising and yanking off his cap, running an angered hand through his unruly hair. "I swear, the day I ever look Dox in the eyes the last thing he'll see are my hands going around his neck!"

"Save your breath, Parker. You're going to need it."

Bryan's voice brought them all to their feet as he entered the room. Even Tala stood, because if there was one person he knew well it was Bryan, and he could tell straight away that, somehow, someway, more bad news was underway.

"I was wrong," was the first thing Bryan said. "I was too quick in announcing that Ishida was, without a doubt, Dox. I raised everyone's hopes and expectations unfairly, and I know that this discovery must be hard on all of you."

"You weren't the only one who though Ishida was Dox," Michael said, coming to Bryan's defence. "Most of us were dead convinced of it before you even made that official announcement."

"Still, as your Captain, I should have handled it better," Bryan insisted, casting a quick look Tala's way. "I'm sorry. This will not happen again."

Knowing that the apology was meant more for him than the others, Tala nodded, but the unease radiating off Bryan was making him skittish.

"Has something else happened, sir?" he asked.

All eyes were on Bryan, who scratched the back of his neck, obviously in dire need to inform them, but hesitant to do so.

"I had meant to come up here with you, but I only just got off the phone with headquarters," Bryan started slowly. "Our operators received a call from a hysterical woman less than half an hour ago. They were unable to calm her down, but were able to trace the call back to the location. When police arrived they found several bodies."

A murmur broke out through the group. Michael was the first voice their collective thoughts.

"It couldn't have been … Dox?"

"No, not Dox. The dead were all colleagues … faculty members who dealt with the patients at the institute."

"Which institute?" Ian asked.

"The Tokyo Institute for the Criminally Insane. Among the dead is Boris Balcov … Yes, my uncle."

"Someone broke into the institute just to murder them?" someone beyond Tala's line of sight asked incredulously.

Bryan lowered his head, pinching the skin between his eyes. For many, such a show of helpless frustration from the Captain was a first. When Bryan looked up again he didn't even bother to hide his unease.

"No. No one broke in. One of the patients broke _out_."

Tala slowly sunk back into the chair, suddenly feeling light-headed and breathless all over again. But now, the shock was worse. The horror, tenfold. He knew. He just _knew_ what was coming next.

'God save us,' was all he could even think as Bryan finally delivered the crushing news.

"Ladies and gentlemen … Kai Hiwatari is on the loose."

Tbc …

* * *

**A/N:** Oh. Hell. Yeah.

Read & Review, please.


	9. January 17 II

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Monday, January 17**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 13.47 **_

"It w-w-was the devil … d-devil … t-the devil … "

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"Kar-Kari w-was … w-w-w-was scre-screaming!! Oh God!! Oh God!! OH GOD!!"

"Please, calm down."

"T-T-The guards could … couldn't st-stop-stop him!! He … He just c-c-c-cut them … He sliced them t-to p-p-pieces!!"

Tala heard Bryan sigh. They'd been in here for the past fifteen minutes, trying to get through to the distraught woman.

"Ma'am, ma'am, look at me," Tala said, gently taking hold of her trembling hands. She gripped his hand tightly. "He is gone now. He won't ever come near you again."

She shook her head madly.

"He can … He can go wherever he wants. Y-Y-You can't s-stop him … He's … he's … the d-d-devil! He moved t-too fast … No—No one s-s-saw him coming!!"

"Ayumi." Tala waited until she was able to focus on him. "He won't be coming back here. He wanted to get out, and he has. He didn't specifically target any of you: you were … he attacked because you were in his way. Now he's out, he has no reason to come back to this place, or after you. He did not harm you then, he will not do so in the future. This I can promise you, Ayumi. Now, I need you to calm down as best you can and tell me a few things. Can you do that?"

She nodded.

"Then let's start from the beginning, please. Where were you when it happened?"

"A … A … An … "

"The Antechamber?"

"Y-Yes."

"Were there others with you?" Bryan asked.

"Y … Y … " She nodded.

"How many of you were there?" Tala asked.

" … T-Twelve … some of t-the o-other guards a-a-a-and Kari and m-m-me … "

"Who's Kari?"

"N-nurse."

"And why were there twelve of you in the Antechamber?"

"S … S-Spen … "

"Spencer?" Tala guessed, and she nodded. "Why was he there? He was fired yesterday."

"W-We a-a-all wanted to s-say g-g-goodbye. It w-was j-just a s-s-s-s … a s-small f-farewell p-p-party … "

Bryan, who'd been standing against the wall behind Tala, pulled up a chair.

"You were all in the Antechamber when … "

"One of the i-i-inmates started sh-shouting in t-t-the L-Lair … " She began breathing hard again. "T-The guards che-checked the monitors b-b-but the co-corridor was e-mpt-empty. Kari and … and I-I had bought a cake to g-g-give to Sp-Spencer. W-w-we were just bringing i-it in whe-when the lights went out in t-t-the r-room… "

"The lights went out. What did you do?"

She pulled the blanket tightly around her.

"I-I-I thought that it w-w-was one of their idea … I thought it was a s-s-surprise! We all did … One of the guar-guards even laughed w-w-when it went dark … and then … and then … " She shuddered and sobbed, burying her face into the thick folds of the blanket around her shoulders. "The guard l-l-laughed and then … and then there w-w-was a n-noise … "

"What kind of noise?"

" … It was so dark … so-so dark … short … oh, God … it happened so quickly … " Her pale skin turned greenish and she swallowed several times. "Like a thud … s-something hitting the floor … someone a-a-asked what—what was h-ha-happening … no one … no one answered … I … I … I h-heard footsteps … there w-were footsteps and Kari cried out … and t-then i-it all went q-quiet … "

"Who turned the lights back on?" Bryan asked.

"I … I … I did," she answered with a strangled sob. "I f-f-found the s-switch a-a-and t-turned it and the l-l-light just c-came back on … "

"Ayumi," Tala tried to calm her as she began to hyperventilate.

"H-He was there … oh, help me … He-He-He w-was standing r-r-right … H-He was right before me! He had a scalpel! T-There was blood everywhere! Everyone was dead!" Her eyes were wide, and her voice reaching hysterical pitch. She dug her nails into Tala's hands. "THE DEVIL WAS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME!! SAVE ME! SAVE ME!!"

"Enough," Bryan said, leaping to his feet and throwing the door open. "Get in here!"

Tala stared at the nurse, unable to get a word in, though he wouldn't know what to say. That look she was giving him; that desperate cry for help, just like Ishida's. She looked as though she'd lost her mind completely, and now knew nothing but fear, and she stared pitifully at him as though only he could save her.

"Don't let him get me," she whispered to Tala even as the medics entered the room and tried to pry her off him. Her face was wet with tears and mucus and her lower lip quivered when the medics were able to unhook two of her fingers from around his wrist. "Y-You spoke to him … You're safe … I want to be safe too! Don't go! Please, don't leave me here! Don't leave me for him to find me! Please! PLEASE!!"

"He won't—" Tala tried to reassure, but she was beyond reasoning now.

"HE'S COMING FOR ME!! HE STABBED KARI!!! HE STABBED HER IN THE FACE!! HE'S GOING TO KILL ME TOO!! HE'S GOING TO KILL US ALL!! LET ME GO!! I HAVE TO GET AWAY!! THAT MONSTER IS OUT THERE!!"

She was thrashing madly, trying to claw and bite the hands holding her. For her own safety, and theirs, one of the medics had no choice but to sedate her, stabbing a needle into her upper arm. The effect kicked in immediately and she went limp, whimpering as she never took her eyes off Tala.

" … He's coming back … He … He'll never be stopped … The devil walks among us … "

She was carefully carried out, leaving Tala and Bryan speechless in the empty office. What had happened between them on the docks had already been put behind them—forgotten, for now—as they tried to piece together what had happened.

"How did he do it?" Bryan finally asked, running a hand through his hair, which had been left loose to relieve the headache he had developed earlier. "How did that son of a bitch get out of his cell? How did he manage to leave his cell, walk down a corridor in full view of other prisoners, bypass two iron gates, somehow manage to turn off the lights in the Antechamber from the outside, enter the Antechamber, slash nine armed guards and one nurse to death in less than a minute, climbed up several floors to ground-level without being detected, kill Boris, then just disappeared. And no one else even knew anything had happened until the surviving nurse was able to shake off her shock long enough to scream for help."

"What about the security monitors?" Tala asked.

"Are being studied as we speak, but so far nothing. No suspicious actions in Hiwatari's cell prior to his escape. One minute the camera taped him in his cell, the next frame shows him gone."

"Maybe the tapes have been altered."

"By who?" Bryan challenged. "Hiwatari didn't have the time to mess around with the tapes."

"And a human being cannot teleport, Bryan. Hiwatari did not faze through the barrier of his cell, so he must have found a way out of there … somehow."

"Tala," Bryan leaned in, "this is Kai Hiwatari we're talking about. And whether you want to believe it or not, he did manage to get out of his cell in mere seconds, without the cameras catching him."

"He's a psychopath, Bryan, but he's only human."

"We don't know that for sure," was the serious reply. "Why did he spare the nurse, though?"

"Ayumi said it herself: she looked him in the eye," Tala said. "She was just incredibly lucky that she reached the light switch before he reached her. That he was as close as she described … He _was_ going right for her but stopped when the lights went on."

"In order to escape, he had to kill the guards because they posed the biggest threat to him," Bryan said. "He dealt with them first, then turned his attention on the nurses. Physically, they wouldn't have been able to stop him, but they could have called for help before he could get away. All Ayumi did was turn on the lights."

"She suddenly found herself looking right at him, with everyone else around her dead. She was terrified; traumatized even."

" … Meaning she was no longer a threat to him," Bryan concluded. "Once he saw she was too scared to even react, he just walked out."

Tala rested his head in his palms. He stared blindly at the papers scattered on the table, eyes tracing the letters but unable to form decent words for some time. He listened to Bryan answer the phone, talking to someone else in the building. Tuning the Captain out, he chased the niggling feeling within him that—as always—something didn't add up. How Hiwatari escaped was, of course, the most confounding aspect of it all; but replaying Ayumi's scattered statement, he repeated it to himself several times before it occurred to him.

"Did anyone else interrogate Ayumi before us?"

"No."

"How many bodies have been recovered from the Antechamber?"

"Nine guards and one nurse. Ten," Bryan counted off.

"How many people did Ayumi say were in the Antechamber at the time?"

Bryan's face went grim as he quickly realized what was wrong with the picture.

"Twelve. So if there are ten bodies in the Antechamber, and Ayumi survived … where's number twelve, and who is it?"

"Spencer Bunin," Tala said at once.

Bryan's phone beeped. Glancing at the screen, he motioned for Tala to follow him out. Gathering everything, Tala fell in step next to the Captain. The whitewashed halls left no impression on either of them as they walked.

"How can you be so sure?" Bryan asked. "They're still identifying the bodies."

Tala shook his head, although he couldn't explain his faith in Spencer's survival.

"Spencer once told me that he knew Hiwatari would kill him if necessary, and Hiwatari confirmed it, but I'm willing to bet my inheritance that he spared him. Nurse Ayumi wasn't meant to live."

" … Could it be that—" Bryan started to say, but Tala cut him off, knowing exactly where the other's train of thoughts were going.

"Spencer did _not_ help Hiwatari escape," he said firmly. "He knows better than anyone how dangerous Hiwatari is. He told me himself that, though they got along well enough, he sees Hiwatari as a danger, and never treated him as anything less. The attack in the Antechamber would have caught Spencer off guard."

"Then why wasn't he there? When Ayumi turned on the lights, she said she saw nothing but blood and bodies. If Spencer was unharmed, why didn't she notice it? And if he was unharmed, why didn't he do anything to stop Hiwatari?"

" … I don't know," Tala admitted. "The only question I want answers to is: why did Hiwatari escape?"

"He wasn't exactly thrilled to be in here," Bryan said, his boots stomping heavily on the stairs.

"But why _now_? He made it all look so easy, getting out of his cell and out of this building. If he knew of a way out, why did he wait five years to act? No, something drove him to do it today, when it was broad daylight outside."

"Revenge."

They looked up ahead to find Emily standing at the top of the stairs, watching them ascend. She'd pinned up her hair in a bun but most of it had come undone and she kept brushing the wispy orange strands out of her face.

"You're talking about Boris?" Bryan asked, and she nodded. "The body?"

"On its way to the morgue, as you ordered," Emily said, giving Tala an uncertain look.

Even though it was well-documented that Bryan never got along with his uncle, everyone was still tiptoeing around the subject, unsure how to talk about Boris' murder to his nephew. For one, no one was referring to him as Dr Balcov, or just Balcov, but Boris—as though not calling the man by his last name would help distance him from Bryan. Bryan himself had said or shown little remorse so far for Boris' death. Then again, the day had dumped a load of bad news on Bryan, who now had to deal with failing to catch Dox, Wyatt Ishida's horrific condition, eleven bodies, and Hiwatari's escape.

"What happened in there?" Bryan asked impatiently even as he walked past Emily, leaving her and Tala to trail after him as he lead the way towards Boris' office. "And don't waste time trying to give a considerate, less graphic version."

"Torture," Emily said. "Some sort of sedative was used, but until the coroner files his report I don't want to say anything for certain. I'm thinking he was drugged because we found no bruising on him, yet he'd been stripped and bound to his chair with his own clothes, apparently without struggle. Hiwatari then carved him up. Judging from the wounds' clean cuts, he used the same scalpel he used in his attack in the Antechamber. I counted over a hundred wounds, from head to foot."

As Bryan and Emily delved deeper into the nature of the attack, Tala was distracted, lost in his own thoughts. He thought back on what he'd experienced in that office, and even then he couldn't help feeling the tiniest amount of remorse. Whatever Boris had put him through, it was nothing compared to the horrible way in which the man had suffered before his death.

More than the pain, Tala wondered about the fear. What went through Boris' mind the exact moment he saw Hiwatari? To find himself face-to-face with a killer everyone knew hated him the most; to see Hiwatari covered in the blood of others; to know that there was no escape …

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Michael said, coming out of nowhere to sling an arm over Tala's shoulders, as always, though there was little humour in his voice. "That can't be good for our relationship."

Tala saw the sharp look Bryan gave Michael, and Michael must have felt it on the back of his head because he stepped away.

"Did you tell them about the tape?" he asked Emily.

"What tape?"

"It looks like Hiwatari treated Boris to a show before killing him," Michael said before Emily could. "There's a small television and video player on the desk."

"What's on the tape?" Tala asked.

"There is no tape. It's gone. Hiwatari probably took it with him. But this was found clutched in Boris' fist," Michael said, handing him a bagged item.

Tala held it up to read the scrap of paper within. The paper looked to have been torn from a journal or planner, and was smeared with blood, but written in black ink were shaky letters:

_**To Ivanov, I have seen the error of my ways. I am sorry.**_

"What's he apologizing for?"

Tala found the other three watching him. Bryan, who'd read the note over his shoulder, looked the least puzzled, probably because he suspected the same as Tala.

"We didn't exactly part on friendly terms," Tala told Emily and Michael. They, like everyone else, knew that Boris had uncovered his real identity, but no one but Bryan knew exactly how things had unfolded in the office.

"No doubt, he didn't write this on his own accord. How did Hiwatari know about what had happened?" Emily asked.

"Boris confronted me in the Lair, while I was talking to Hiwatari. But I can't think of a reason why Hiwatari would care for such a thing when he finally got Boris to himself," Tala said, despite it becoming glaringly obvious in his mind what had been Hiwatari's motive.

"Hey," Steven greeted them just outside Boris' office. Next to him, Eddie stood leaning against the staircase's banister.

"Anything new to report?" Emily asked.

"The last person to see Boris alive was a visiting cousin from one of the institute's patients," Eddie said. "The receptionist downstairs reported that person leaving the building at five past nine this morning. Boris called the receptionist about fifteen minutes later to confirm a later appointment. That was the last anyone in this place heard of him. The phone in his office will have to be traced to see if he made any outgoing calls afterwards"

"We're still trying to work out when, exactly, Hiwatari managed to break into the Antechamber," Steven added. "The first sign of trouble came when the surviving nurse managed to stagger out into the hall and grab the first passing guard she could find. That was around a quarter to one."

"She was in shock," Tala said. "It could have taken a while before she got her wits about her."

"Which makes the next piece of information even more interesting," Eddie said. "The guards change shifts twice a day in this place. Once at midnight, and the other at noon. And when they do there's usually a lot less people in the corridors."

"But if Hiwatari knew the shift schedules, why did he choose to do it during the day when he could have gotten away, probably completely undetected, last night at twelve?" Michael asked.

"It's still early into this investigation," Emily said when no one could answer that question. "Captain, this way, if you would … "

Bryan followed her into the office. Tala remained rooted on the spot, staring at the doors with a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Tala?" Michael asked when he didn't move.

"I'm coming," he said, forcing himself to follow the rest inside.

There hadn't been any sort of struggle. No furniture had been overturned, no papers had been scattered, no broken windows or glass. Were it not for the bloody pool on the carpet beneath the blood-covered desk and chair, one would have never guessed what had happened. Looking down, Tala jumped when he noticed he'd almost stepped on a trail of bloody footprints in the carpet that lead out.

Hiwatari had been in here. Just a couple of hours ago, Hiwatari had past the spot where Tala now stood, having finished his killing spree, and vanished.

"You'd think there'd be blood splatters as tall as the ceiling," Eddy said, pulling on gloves as he walked towards the desk, where the portable television still stood. "The carpet here's soak, but not a single drop anywhere else in the room."

"It wasn't a frenzied stabbing and slashing," Emily said, returning to her clipboard. "Hiwatari probably had about an hour to do what he wanted. He had the time to … savour the moment."

Everyone looked over at Bryan, but he was talking to an officer, completely unfazed with being in the same room where the same blood that ran through his own veins now stained the carpet.

"Hiwatari must have dreamt of this day from the moment he met Boris," Eddie said. "He had this whole thing planned. Have you seen his cell? Nothing. Not a single hint of a forced escape. All that's left are his books and drawings."

"But _why_?" Michael insisted. "Why now?"

"I think he was waiting," Tala dared to suggest. It had been on his mind for some time, but he had been hesitant to speak up because he had no proof, not even a solid theory, to back it up. But now, seeing as no one else was coming up with anything, he decided to throw it out there and see what the others would think. "He was waiting on Dox."

Everyone in the room froze. An alliance between Hiwatari and Dox was the absolute last thing anyone wanted to hear, but now that he had everyone's attention Tala couldn't be considerate enough to lie just to appease them.

"Hiwatari knows who Dox is," he said. "He hinted that Dox was the one who murdered Tyson Granger. Suspicion only turned to Hiwatari after Granger went missing: if Dox hadn't targeted Granger, the police would have never suspected Hiwatari of the other murders."

"So, Hiwatari can't be too happy with Dox," Steve said.

"Maybe that's why he refused to tell you Dox's true identity," Emily said. "Maybe he knew even then that he wanted to get back at Dox for blowing his cover."

"Hey, you think that, if we leave them to it, those two psychos might end up killing each other?" Michael asked, making Steve and Eddie chuckle. "Would save us a lot of trouble."

"If only either were as predictable," Tala said, though he secretly did not agree with Emily's theory. "One might kill the other, but until then no one's safe in this city. And right now, I fear Hiwatari more than Dox. At least we found Ishida alive. If he pulls through, somehow, then Dox would have failed this week, which might change things around for next week. But Hiwatari, in less than an hour, killed almost four times as many people as Dox has in three weeks."

"There must be something in here," Emily said, trying to encourage her colleagues. "Boris would have never allowed us to see them, but now we should be able to dig up his files on Hiwatari. He's had him in here for five years, after all. Boris must have been able to find _something_ that we can use against Hiwatari."

Bryan, who'd been looking out a window, scoffed. Walking over to the desk, he opened the lowest drawer and pulled at its bottom, revealing a secret compartment in which lay several thick, black journals. Bryan took out the topmost one.

"Boris' daily entries concerning Hiwatari," Bryan told them as they gathered round him. He flipped through the journal with some familiarity. "He showed it to me once, four years ago, when he was still tolerable. These aren't test results or research reports; just Boris' thoughts on and experience with Hiwatari."

He turned to a page and passed the journal to Tala to read out loud. It was dated seven months ago.

"'As a research subject, Hiwatari has proven to be most challenging and yet most disappointing. A more interesting human being, I have never encountered in my life, but he is simply impenetrable to any and all psychological examination. He mocks me. It gives him no greater pleasure than to watch me fail every time When asked to take the tests he folds the papers into origami. I have tried everything, from theory to imagination, to get Hiwatari to talk. Last week's attempt at using sodium amytal had little effect on him."

"Sodium amytal?" Steven asked.

"It's better known as amobarbital," Emily said. "It's one of the closest things to a truth serum. People under the influence of sodium amytal are said to admit to anything. It has been used on criminals in the past to make them confess to their crimes, but it's been proven to actually induce false memories and has since lost all credibility as a truth serum."

"But it normally does affect people," Tala said. "Listen to what Boris wrote here: 'When we administered the maximum safe dosage to Kai, it had absolutely no effect on him: he told me that if I weren't going to be of any amusement to him anymore I would have to leave. I ordered the nurse to triple the dosage, despite her initial caution against it. Anyone subjected to an overdose of sodium amytal becomes feverish, uncoordinated, short of breath, and slurred of speech. Kai, in contrast, eloquently requested no rice with his dinner that evening, saying that, having considered it, he was in the mood for soup. I asked him about the whereabouts of Hillary Tachibana'—I've heard that name before."

"She was a fellow student who disappeared about a year before Hiwatari was caught," Emily said. "Everyone suspects it was his doing, but no body has ever been found and Hiwatari denies having had anything to do with it."

"Which almost makes me believe he's telling the truth, because he had no problem admitting to all the other murders," Eddie said.

"Then again, Tachibana was a government official's daughter: if it were ever proven that Hiwatari killed her her father would have his head."

"'I asked him about the whereabouts of Hillary Tachibana'," Tala read again, then continued, "'and Kai said he changed his mind: he didn't want rice, but just a cup of hot milk. Abandoning the plan, we un-strapped him and he went back to his drawings, completely unfazed despite having a lethal amount of sodium amytal in his system. It's been almost five years since I had him in my custody, and I feel as though, the more I try to learn of him, the less I know.'"

"The only thing you'll get from these entries is a headache," Bryan concluded, talking to Emily. "Boris filled several of these journals with all his past failures, and this entry was one of the more coherent ones; the rest are just him angrily ranting against Hiwatari and everyone else in general."

"So … now what, boss?" Michael asked, turning his cap around on his head.

"A press conference downtown," Bryan said, checking his watch to make sure he had enough time. "Inevitably, almost every news agency's already picked up on both stories and are already spinning their own versions. The truth isn't that reassuring, but I'd rather the public were well-informed. Inaccurate information will put people at risk, so it's going to be a long afternoon for me."

"How are we going to handle both cases, sir?" one of the other officers in the room asked. "Both Dox and Hiwatari … that's huge!"

"We're not going to go after Hiwatari yet—"

"What?!" Michael asked, loudly interrupting Bryan. The American pushed himself out of the chair he'd been sitting in, livid. "Sir, with all due respect, that's bullshit!"

"Michael!" Emily hissed.

"This is Hiwatari we're dealing with!" Michael said as he confronted Bryan. "Dox is child's play compared to him! Hiwatari can kill off an entire block in one day if he wants to and you're telling us to let him?! Have you lost it?!"

No one in the room moved, eyes nervously meeting in hopes that someone would take the initiative, but no one did. No one dared. Tala, who'd been paging through Boris' journal, was about to step in and try to easethe tension between Bryan and Michael, but the Captain shook off Michael's words.

"In the years you worked with me, have I ever 'lost it', Parker?" he asked evenly.

Michael, coming to his senses, shook his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking surprised at his own outburst.

"Never, sir. Sorry."

"I know you well enough to know that you spoke out of concern, not anger, but don't you ever assume that what I do isn't for the safety of the public. Do you hear me, Parker?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"Hiwatari is_ not_ going to get away with this," Bryan said. "I have notified authorities abroad and they have offered their services, whatever we need. Hiwatari isn't just Japan's problem: he had connections abroad in the past. Airports will be heavily monitored. As will harbours."

"What about reward money?" another man asked.

"Already working on it," Bryan said. "But we have to be careful with that one. We don't want members of the public chasing after Hiwatari. He will know we've got a reward on his head. If he catches anyone trying to play the hero he will kill them."

"He'll have to resurface eventually," Steve said. "Hiwatari was tough to catch the first time because no one in the world suspected him until in the end. Now everyone knows his face. His tattoos alone should make it very easy to pick him out of a crowd."

"Of course, he'll find a way to cover those up," Emily reminded.

"It sounds careless, but we can't allow ourselves to be distracted," Bryan rounded off. "Hiwatari may currently be the most infamous of the two, but Dox has proven himself to be as cold-hearted and ruthless. Dox is still on schedule. If we want to save his remaining victims we cannot let up on his case, not even for Hiwatari. Let's go, Tala."

"Huh?" Tala, still engrossed in the journal, looked up.

"You came with me, remember? I'll drop you off at headquarters, then continue on to the conference."

"Oh hey!" Michael suddenly said, walking over to where several boxes were stacked. "Just a sec there, Tala. We found something in Boris' cabinet we thought you'd want back."

Tala sighed, relieved, when Michael pulled his bag—the one Boris had confiscated—out of a box.

"Thank you," Tala said, accepting it from Michael. However, going through it, he frowned. "Where's my recorder?"

"That's just how we found it," Michael said. "We didn't go through it, so if your recorder's not in there then Boris must have been messing with it."

"If it's in here, someone will come across it soon enough. Spread the word to the others to return the recorder to Ivanov if they find it. He's got valuable data on it," Bryan said, car keys in hand as he started towards the door.

"See you later," Tala told Michael and Eddie; Emily and Steven were in the corner, talking to another woman who was dusting a file cabinet.

Michael grabbed his hand and unexpectedly kissed it gently.

"Farewell, my blue-eyed angel," he said with a dramatic flair. Tala just stared, while Eddie ran a hand over his face, trying not to laugh. "Go yonder, beyond this foul edifice, and take with you our memories, for I shall have to plough on through this festering space for many a more hours on end."

"Good, because I want a full inventory on this office," Bryan dead-panned from across the room. "Back to work, Shakespeare."

Grinning, Michael winked at Tala before sauntering over to the rest of his team.

"What's wrong?" Tala asked, catching up with Bryan on the stairs outside the office. "Yes, of course things are royally fucked now, and I know you're under a lot of pressure, which is why it strikes me that you are still allowing yourself to be distracted by something else."

"It's not that far off. It's Hiwatari," Bryan said, hands in pocket, his badge flashing with every other step he took. "You know what I'm talking about here, Tala."

" … The note he had Boris write." Tala had tried to distance himself from it as much as possible, which was hard to do as his name was on it.

"Don't you find it _too_ coincidental that, after five years of contently twiddling his thumbs, Hiwatari decides to escape the day after you and Boris had that fight right in front of him?" Bryan asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "He couldn't have figured out how to get out of that cell in one night: he must have known how for some time, yet he only chooses to act on it today. And then, before finishing Boris off, he has him write you an apology."

"If you're thinking that what Hiwatari did he did to avenge me—"

"What other possible reason could there be?"

"Bryan," Tala snapped, turning to block the other. "Do you seriously believe that Hiwatari needed any more reason to want to kill your uncle? He hated Boris. You don't know what happened down there; the things that were said. Boris purposefully got Hiwatari riled up. Yeah, he and I had an alteration, but Boris also called Ray Kon a 'chink' to Hiwatari's face. Boris fired and berated Spencer, the only person in this place Hiwatari respected, in front of everyone. Boris promised to make Hiwatari's life a living hell; threatened not to feed him. Hiwatari hated your uncle, but he said it himself: Boris still amused him. But yesterday, after what Boris did and said to, not just me, but Spencer, and Ray Kon, and Hiwatari himself, Hiwatari had enough. I was there, Bryan. I heard what he said to Boris; something about getting rid of what he no longer needed. In Hiwatari's mind, Boris was as good as dead the day they met. Boris was living on borrowed time, and yesterday … he forfeited what little time he had left when he pushed Hiwatari that far."

Bryan sighed, his car keys in hand and his white car directly in sight. They were standing just outside the main doors, sheltering in the archway. It was pouring outside, but men and women in plastic raincoats were meticulously searching the grounds and patrol vehicles slowly rolled up and down the immediate streets around the institute. All but a select few personnel had been evacuated and brought down to headquarters for interrogation, while those kept behind were helping the police, showing them hard-to-find locations, opening locked cabinets and desks, and reviewing hours of surveillance footage.

Turning away from the busy scene, Tala watched Bryan, who was staring straight ahead with furrowed brows.

"I'm sorry, Bryan."

"For what?"

"For what happened to Boris. He wasn't a saint, but in the very least, he wasn't a killer either. You threatened to make him pay for what he did to me, and I myself didn't wish him a lot of good things, but neither of us would have ever wanted him to die this way. What he went through, you wouldn't wish it on anyone."

To Tala, Bryan didn't even pretend to dismiss the thought.

"When headquarters called me and told me that Hiwatari had killed Boris, I was almost … jealous," Bryan said, sounding as though he couldn't believe it himself. "Boris and I have been on bad terms for years, and I always hoped that, one day, I'd be the one to put him in his place. In some sick way, Hiwatari and I shared that aspect, which I was always aware of. When I got the news I thought: 'So, Hiwatari got to him before I could. Hiwatari was the one who won his fight against Boris, and I'll never get the chance.'"

Leaning against the wall, Tala said nothing about the sheen in Bryan's eyes. Bryan kept a straight face, but Tala could see that the cracks beneath that were beginning to show. It wasn't Bryan's style to make a scene, and there was no one else around close enough to notice, but it was an upsetting sight for Tala, as Bryan had always been the strongest of the two of them.

"But by the time I was climbing the stairs to Ishida's apartment to inform you guys, I suddenly realized that … He was my only living relative left, Tala. God knows I hated that man, but there was always something; some lingering connection that may not have done much for our relationship, but it was _something_. He was my father's brother, and they'd always been close. And now that's gone and I can't help feeling that it's missing, more than I ever thought it would. It's like I have nobody left. To be honest, I don't know who I feel more sorry for: Boris or myself … No, I never wanted him dead." Clenching the keys in his fist, he didn't meet Tala's eyes as he stepped out into the rain, though not before saying, "But I have no such reservations for Hiwatari. If ever I get the chance, I will enjoy putting a bullet in that man's head."

Alone in the doorway, Tala watched Bryan's back. He'd wanted to say something, but had waited too long, and the chance was now gone.

" … _It's like I have nobody left … "_

Tala knew exactly what that felt like. As a child, he'd lived with the same feeling of loneliness. His fatther had been the only family he knew; without him, he'd had no one left to love, and no one left to love him. It had taken years to feel any sort of love again, and that had been when he'd met Bryan. Bryan had saved him from misery back then, given him both company and love.

Now, the roles were reversed … but could he …

'I want to help you,' Tala thought as he jogged out after Bryan. 'I don't want you to go through what I went through … but after what you did to me that time … Can I trust you to appreciate _us _the same way I did? I want to take away the pain, Bryan, but not if you're only going to hurt me again … '

By the time he reached Bryan had already opened the car and was talking on his cell phone, cracks mended and mind back on the business at hand. Tala got into the passenger seat without a word and, for now, they were just colleagues, focussed on tracking down not one, but two killers.

* * *

_**Monday, January 17**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 23.52**_

Pushing the door shut with his foot, Tala carefully carried the stack of boxes in his hand to the couch. He spat out his keys, which he'd had clenched between his teeth, deposited the boxes and sat down with a tired sigh, not even bothering to turn on the lights—the whole living was lit by just the floor lamp in the corner. He'd forgotten to remove his shoes at the door. Forgoing the local etiquette he'd done his best to follow, he kicked them off now and left them lying where they landed. He wasn't particularly tired, despite being home so late, but he needed a moment to recollect.

It had been nothing short of mayhem at headquarters when Bryan had dropped him off. The press had already converged outside, shouting questions and trying to stick cameras through windows and doors, flocking whichever unlucky officer they could find. Inside, every phone had been ringing off the hook, overwhelming the operators as they tried to speak to more than five people at once. Those not manning the phones were moving at break-neck speed to gather and organize incoming and outgoing information, trying desperately to keep track of everything. Every officer, even those who'd been meant to be taking the day off, had reported in, willing to help, but also adding to the overcrowded confusion.

Bryan had gone on to the conference, and Tala had managed to get to his office, but even there he couldn't be alone because every few minutes someone would let themselves in to hand him the latest update, or to ask whether he'd taken so-and-so's dossier, or—in the case of one young intern—to ask him what Ishida had looked like. Tala had patiently sent the girl on her way with a strong chastise about not taking the whole thing seriously. Stubbornly, he'd stayed in his office all afternoon and most of the night. Beyond his door he'd heard the clamour ever so slightly die down as plans were made and assignments were handed out and everyone eventually knew their roles in the whole thing.

By the time Bryan had returned it had been ten, reminding a confused Tala that his own car was still parked outside his apartment building and offering him a lift home.

Unbuttoning his coat, Tala felt the wrapped item Bryan had given him just as he'd been about to step out of the car still in his pocket. Unwrapping it, he stared at the automatic handgun. While he knew how to handle guns, and had proven to be a good shot, he had never been comfortable with them. His father had been killed by firearms, so he had little reverence for them.

"Take it," Bryan had insisted when Tala first refused. "You may not be an officer yet, but you're working on dangerous cases and going into dangerous circumstances. At least let me have some peace of mind that you aren't walking around unarmed."

Reluctantly, Tala had accepted it. What he couldn't yet accept was his reason for suddenly leaning over and kissing Bryan, a move that had caught them both by surprise.

'Was I feeling sorry for him?' Tala wondered, putting the gun on the table and flopping back against the couch. 'Because I didn't say anything to him in the parking lot, was I just trying to make up for that? Is it because I thought he was afraid for me; afraid of losing me too? Is that why he wanted me to have this gun, even though he knows how much I hate them?'

Something white was sticking out from under the boxes. Carefully extracting the piece of paper, Tala recognized Yuka's handwriting, and only then remembered that she must still have Wolborg with her, as the dog would have otherwise been at his feet by now. It read:

_**Dear Tala,**_

_**I hope you find this before you get too worried. Wolborg and I arrived back safely. I wanted to wait up for you but I fell asleep on your sofa and only just woke up. It is ten to ten and you are not back yet. (You really should sleep more.) I'm going back to my apartment.**_

_**I am very sorry, but I think Wolborg is coming down with something. We did get a little wet in the rain earlier. He has been acting strangely ever since we got back and was the one who woke me. He looked restless and kept tugging at my clothes, and he was shivering badly. I do not want to leave him alone in such a state so I will take him home with me. I hope it's nothing serious. If it is, I will pay for any veterinarian bills.**_

_**I'm going to bed now so I hope you don't mind coming by for Wolborg tomorrow.**_

_**Yuka**_

Speaking of the ill …

Picking up the phone, Tala dialled the number he'd written on the cover of a notepad. It rang seven times before someone answered.

"_Tokyo Hospital, receptionist."_

"Good evening, ma'am. This is Tala Ivanov. I need to speak to … " He checked the name written beneath the number. "Dr … Judy Tate. I'm one of the investigators who found her latest patient, Wyatt Ishida."

"_One moment, sir."_

While he waited he read Yuka's note a second time, put it down, and started to turn on some more lights, though he couldn't shake the nagging feeling brought on by the note.

Wolborg ill? That dog was as healthy as a horse and almost as strong. In all the years he's had him Tala had never once had to bring Wolborg to a vet. And a little rain was nothing to Wolborg: he could spend up to hours running through deep snow back in Russia. When cooped up for too long, Wolborg could get restless, but he had only just returned with Yuka, and the behaviour she described wasn't one Tala was familiar with.

He turned on the TV, but left the sound off as he zapped through the channels. Unsurprisingly, Hiwatari's tattooed face was on almost every channel, glaring from behind the news anchors who looked both thrilled to be broadcasting such a story, and anxious.

A voice in his ear startled him as he'd almost forgotten he was still on the phone.

"_Hello?" _a woman asked.

"Dr Tate?" Tala said, leaning against the back of the couch. When she confirmed this he went on. "I was curious to know about Mr Ishida's current condition. He was … in a pretty bad way when I last saw him."

"_An understatement, sir. I have never seen anything like it," _Dr Tate said over the sound of rustling papers. _"I've seen decomposing bodies in a better state than he is right now. As you could easily tell, he's horribly malnourished. 'Emaciated' doesn't even begin to describe it. His digestive track is nothing but a solid clod and he has trouble with his bowel movements. No muscle mass left. Several and severe bedsores. The list goes on and on."_

"The one hand that was amputated, what can you tell me about that?" Tala asked, turning his back to the TV when he thought he heard something, but it was only a bird on the balcony. "When was it removed?"

"_The wound looked like it was a clean cut, but it never fully healed. Because of his overall condition, it's hard to estimate exactly how old that particular wound is. I'd only be guessing if I were to say more than six months. Perhaps even a year. I could send you a report, if you like."_

"Could you fax it over right now?" Tala asked, already heading for his room where the fax machine was. He gave her the number, then asked, "Has Ishida tried to communicate to anyone, through any means?"

"_He's tried, but without his tongue none of it is understandable. He's too weak to even gesture, let alone hold a pen and write. Given what he suffered through, I'm surprised there's any coherency left in him. If the police are hoping he'd be able to name his captor you're expecting way too much of this man. We should be congratulating him for still breathing."_

Entering his room, Tala stepped over one of Wolborg's stuffed animals to reach the fax machine next to his computer, which was already blinking as the papers came through.

"Tell me truthfully, doctor: do you think he's going to make it?"

"_Truthfully, Mr Ivanov, he'd die of shock right now if you were to shine a flashlight in his eyes. I don't know what's keeping this man alive, but whatever it is I don't think there's much left to keep him going, let alone grant him the strength to recover. I'm afraid he won't even make it through the night."_

Reading the first sheet of paper she'd sent, Tala agreed. The list of problems Ishida faced was longer than he'd expected, and unless the man could regenerate his rotten tissues and organs, it looked like Dox would have his third victim after all.

"I see," Tala said. "At the very least, he wouldn't have had to spend the last days of his life alone in that dark room."

"_As long as he's alive and my patient, my staff and I will do everything we can to make him comfortable," _Dr Tate said. _"God bless, that poor boy has suffered through enough misery, and though it is my oath as a doctor to try and save every person who comes through our doors, no matter how dire their condition, in this case I'm afraid he's too far gone. Security and attention is what he needs now, and he will get that here."_

"They all came through," Tala said, gathering up the papers and placing them on his bed to read later. "I'll let you get back to your work, Dr Tate, and I'll get back to mine."

"_From what I've heard just an hour ago, your workload has just doubled … "_

"More like quadrupled," Tala sighed. "But I'm not a liberties to discuss it."

"_I've dealt with enough officers in the past to know the rules,"_ Dr Tate said patiently. _"I do wish you and your colleagues success. I think I speak for everyone in Japan when I say we want Hiwatari back where he belongs as much as you do. And this time, the Japanese public knows what to look for. Goodnight, Mr Ivanov."_

Hanging up, Tala dropped down heavily on his bed, placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

The Japanese public knew what to look for … but if any of them were to go looking for Hiwatari the only thing they'd find was certain death. The reward money was tempting enough for an average citizen to fancy themselves as bounty hunters, and hopefuls might foolishly believe that Hiwatari might have mellowed out due to being incarcerated.

"Don't do anything stupid," Tala softly begged, wishing he could reach the minds of the millions out there who were glued to their television set right now. "Don't give Hiwatari a reason to hurt you."

He couldn't go for Wolborg now, as it was too late and he'd be waking Yuka, but he suddenly missed his pet. He didn't want to be here, alone, with no one to talk to. He'd never spent a night at home without Wolborg close by.

'Maybe I should take him to see a vet,' Tala thought as he tiredly got to his feet. 'Yuka's note said that he was acting weird: he might have caught something after all.'

Stepping into the living room, Tala headed towards the kitchen but paused at the headline splashed across the TV screen. Placing the phone on the table, he turned up the volume a bit.

" … _welcome back to the evening news."_

This particular broadcaster, who looked so young she could have might as well been in elementary school when Hiwatari was captured the first time, could barely hide her excitement as she sat before the flashing _BREAKING NEWS_ above an old court photo of the fugitive.

" _Viewers, we now have not one, but two sociopaths on the loose. Kai Hiwatari, the most infamous murderer in the history of Japan, escaped Tokyo's Institute For The Criminally Insane earlier today, killing eleven people, including the institute's director, Dr Boris Balcov. Allegedly, his escape wasn't even captured on security tapes and authorities are baffled as to how he managed to escape his maximum security cell without any apparent force or manipulation. By the time the alarm was raised and the police arrived Hiwatari had long disappeared, vanishing into the Tokyo streets. A bounty has been placed on his head but police are insisting that citizen only report any valuable information and _not_ attempt to catch Hiwatari on their own. While Tokyo's finest succeeded in capturing Hiwatari once, the question remains whether they'll be as lucky a second time, and, of course, whether there will be any casualties by the time this is all over."_

It wasn't anything he didn't already know. Leaving the television on, he decided to heat up some of the food Yuka had brought him. He wasn't hungry, but he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before. If he weren't careful he'd end up starving himself, which would affect his thinking and thus his work.

'Besides, I should appreciate having the freedom to eat,' he thought as he entered the kitchen. 'Wyatt didn't have that luxury and look what's become of him.'

Rubbing a faint pain on the right side of his temple—actual proof that his body _was_ already feeling the lack of food—he blinked at the darkness he suddenly found himself in, only to remember that he hadn't yet turned on the kitchen lights. Wondering whether he really was in the right state of mind for the long night ahead, he flicked on the switch.

"Good evening, Officer Ivanov."

Kai Hiwatari smirked dangerously from where he sat at the kitchen table, one leg casually crossed over the other, leaning back in his seat with an eerie calm look. Before him on the table, resting harmlessly on top of the paperback Tala had loaned him, was a scalpel.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	10. January 18 I

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Tuesday, January 18**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 00.02**_

"Good evening, Officer Ivanov."

It wasn't iron courage that allowed Tala to remain as calm as he did. On the contrary, fear had paralyzed him; it had struck him so powerfully his mind felt as though it had shattered, and was now only just beginning to piece itself back together. So, rather than panic and attempt to run, he stayed where he was, processing the situation as best as he could.

The first thing that came to mind was the handgun. He'd left it on the coffee table, so it was of no use to him right now, but how long had Hiwatari been there? Did he know Tala had a gun? Did he know where it was at this exact moment?

Hiwatari had changed his clothes. Instead of his grey one piece prison uniform, he was wearing what looked like a brand new and expensive ensemble of a thick sweater over dark jeans, with new shoes. A scarf lay coiled around gloves in his lap. He didn't have a coat with him, yet Hiwatari was dry, despite the downpour outside. It had been raining all afternoon and evening, with the one exception of a brief forty-five minute lull in the weather between eight and nine. Meaning that, wherever he'd been hiding, Hiwatari had travelled to Tala's apartment during that time, and had been there ever since.

Which perfectly correlated with Yuka's account of Wolborg's behaviour: Wolborg had known that Hiwatari was there. But Wolborg was also a trained police dog who would sniff out intruders, not hide from them. How could it be that, rather than bark and attack Hiwatari, Wolborg had acted like a frightened puppy? The dog had never shown fear towards a human being his entire life.

"Are you not going to return my greeting, Officer Ivanov? How very discourteous of you," Hiwatari sighed. "After all the effort I went through to come see you, not even a 'hello'? No need to worry of what others may think: we are the only ones here."

'… The only ones here … Just me and him … No, don't let him intimidate you,' Tala told himself. Calmly, he said, "Good evening, Mr Hiwatari. How was your day? I heard it was very productive."

Hiwatari scoffed, smiling at Tala's seriousness.

"My, you should know better than to listen to rumours, officer. That's how misunderstandings come about."

"I see," Tala said. He was shaking on the inside, as were his fingers—which he hid by folding his arms—but he willed himself to stay calm, although talking to keep Hiwatari occupied _and_ trying to think of a solution wasn't easy, as he couldn't allow himself to get distracted by his thoughts for a second so long as Hiwatari still had that scalpel close at hand. "So assuming that you killed those people, and broke out of your cell in the first place, was just one big misunderstanding. Did I just jump to conclusions again?"

"No, you understood that part well enough," Hiwatari said, playing with the scalpel as if he knew Tala had been considering it that very second. "I was just sharing with you some general tips of life."

"I don't have to listen to a word you have to say."

Tala pretended to look away in disgust, but was really searching for anything he could use as a weapon without Hiwatari noticing. He wished he'd spent more time at home because he wasn't familiar enough with this kitchen to know yet where everything was. He suspected that there was a knife block on the counter he was leaning against, but he couldn't turn around to check: if he did Hiwatari would know what he was planning and then things would only escalate from bad to worse. He could also make a blind grab behind him in hopes of grabbing a knife, but such a sudden movement would surely trigger Hiwatari to attack.

"After all the trouble I went through, returning your book, you do not have the decency to show some gratitude? By the—"

"You … how … " Tala struggled to decide on a proper response, then decided to just say everything that was going through his mind. "Gratitude? Decency? Are you really going to sit there, with the weapon you used to kill eleven people, and sulk because I'm not showering you with praise and thanks? Eleven people are dead because of you! You killed those people, spilled their blood, left behind broken families, have effectively put all of Japan into a state of national emergency, and you want me to thank you for returning a book? Don't you care at all? Just a bit, for those men and women now lying in a morgue somewhere?"

Hiwatari waited for Tala to finish his outburst, then pointed over his shoulder with his thumb at the fridge.

"By the way," he said, continuing where Tala had cut him off, "I hope you don't mind, but I finished the orange juice in your fridge. I've made sure to leave no fingerprints behind on your furniture, but I'd burn that juice carton if I were you to get rid of all incriminating DNA evidence. And you shouldn't leave food out on the stove like that—it's unsightly. You're lucky that nice old neighbour of yours never came in here to make sure you'd eaten it, or I would have had to silence her for good."

'Don't snap,' Tala ordered himself as anger was beginning to boil within him. 'Don't snap … Don't let him get you worked up … But I want … Look at him, so calm and in control … I wish … I wish I could beat him at his own game … That smile … I wish I could wipe that look off his face … I want to defeat him, to put him in his place as—'

Tala's thoughts stopped right there. He was giving in to Hiwatari's own wishes. Despite thinking otherwise, by desiring to see Hiwatari lose their battle of will and wits, he was falling into the same trap as Boris. Into the same trap Bryan had admitted being entangled in. He could not approach this situation with the intention to overpower Hiwatari. Even after five years of having complete control of Hiwatari's life, Boris had failed to score a single victory: to think that he could do so in a single night was naïve and dangerous.

He didn't have to get through to Hiwatari now. He couldn't waste time arguing with the man on morality. That could be done once Hiwatari was back behind bars, locked up and safely away from the rest of the population.

"You're sick," he said in all honesty. "Mentally, something's wrong with you. You'll never get the death penalty, because of your condition. You'll just go back to a secured environment where you can't hurt others. Hiwatari, you cannot be free. You know that."

"Of course I do," Hiwatari said. Tala clenched his teeth together when the man picked up the scalpel and began twirling it idly between his fingers. The razor flashed in the light as it spun round and round. "You talk as though I am unaware of my actions. I'm not one of those cowardly fools who claim they 'go into a haze' and have no memories of what they did. I am not schizophrenic, or paranoid. Dangerous, yes. Mental, no. Therefore, I don't wish to be locked up once more with a bunch of shrieking, drooling Neanderthals."

"And yet you came here, knowing I wouldn't wish you all the best and escort you to the front door," Tala said. "If you've come to gloat your escape, you're not going to be getting any admiration from me. If you were expecting my eternal gratitude for what you did to Boris, you won't be getting it in a million years. Whatever you came here for, Hiwatari, you're not getting it."

The scalpel stopped spinning. Hiwatari cocked his head to one side, as if trying to determine whether Tala was being serious or not. When he saw that he was, Hiwatari sighed loudly and sat upright.

"Clearly, you are still too inexperienced to realize the situation you're in, Officer Ivanov," he said. "Wiser men would know that I wouldn't have come here if I weren't one hundred per cent certain I'll be able to leave just as easily. Wiser men would know that, if a top-security cell, nine guards and one of the best security systems in Japan couldn't contain me, a single individual in an ordinary apartment couldn't either. So let's get this straight: I will leave here when I'm ready, and you aren't going to stop me."

Hiwatari rose to his feet, scalpel in hand. As the man had already made a move, Tala made his. Reaching back, he felt the handles of the knives in the knife block and grabbed whichever one he could get his fingers around first. It turned out to be a chef's knife, which was just about the best he could have hoped for.

"Stay where you are," Tala said, holding out the knife.

Hiwatari didn't even blink at the large blade.

"I do believe that, before the little incident with Boris, we were having an interesting visit that was cut short," Hiwatari said, having already rounded the table. Now there was nothing but the knife between him and Tala. "I don't like leaving things unfinished, officer."

"We can finish that conversation the way we started it: with you behind that glass barrier."

"Now, see," Hiwatari smiled as he shook the scalpel at Tala, taking yet another step closer, "there's the problem. Although I was polite enough to bid you goodbyes and all that, I was never pleased about the way our visits always ended. But I couldn't do anything about it, could I? On the other hand, now that I'm out, we can talk all night if we want to."

"Stay where you are," Tala ordered.

Hiwatari finally obeyed, but only because he was already less than a couple of feet away from Tala. It was close enough for Tala to consider attacking first, but the twirling scalpel in the man's hand, however, made him hesitate. He had only seen Hiwatari in an enclosed environment, in a calm state, where little movement was required; but the memory that this man had gone through nine fully armed, fully trained guards in less than sixty seconds made it clear that a frontal attack, even a surprise one, would most likely fail.

"You should feel blessed, Officer Ivanov."

"Enlighten me," Tala said, again stalling for time as his eyes never left the spinning scalpel. He now had his own weapon, but what to do with it?

"I cut down ten innocent people who were in my way, and went out of my way to deal with the not-so-innocent eleventh. Right now, over 127 million people are living in fear for their lives." The scalpel stopped spinning, it's razor-sharp tip aimed at Tala's chest. "But not you. You, I have no intent on killing. That would end the fun."

"And what if you eventually decide that I'm no longer 'fun'? I'll end up like Boris then, will I? I'm not going to sit around and wait for you to lose interest, Hiwatari."

"Boris was set the die the very first evening he came to talk to me in my cell," Hiwatari said, smirking at the memory. "Up until that point I'd met a lot of people who I found to be distasteful, but Boris redefined the word. I was never going to be friends with him, but, believe it or not, I never determined to kill him the moment I'd set eyes on him. It wasn't until he came to see how I'd settled in that he doomed himself. You know what I'm talking about."

"What?" Tala asked, giving up without really trying to guess.

In no hurry, Hiwatari leaned back the table.

"You didn't get his note?"

"I got that, but what … " Like a bolt out of the blue, it struck him for the first time as he pictured the note in his mind. "'I have seen the error of my ways' … What was on that tape you showed him?"

"Something that would have been highly entertaining were it not for those moments when Boris had you pinned on his desk. But, good for you for being such a fighter. And lucky for me Boris insisted on having every inch of that building under surveillance, including his office. I'd suspected what his intentions for you could have been, but seeing it on tape made killing that swine all the more satisfying."

Mortified, Tala almost lowered the knife.

"How does that relate to you?" he asked dumbly, even though it wasn't a question that would get him very far. He just needed more time … "You met him long before I did. Why did you want to kill him even way back then?"

"My first night in that institute was not in the Lair. I was placed in solitary confinement, where there were no windows or even cameras. Only one metal door, in and out, and nothing but concrete for the rest. I was still chained, sitting on the floor when Boris came in. He laid down the rules, then told me that, from then on, he would be in control of my life. He warned me that he could make my life a living hell, but also promised that, although confined, I could live the rest of my life in much comfort. All for just one thing in return. Come on, officer, you're not that naïve to not know what his condition was. He proposed the same solution to you yesterday."

Thinking of it alone made Tala shiver in disgust, but Hiwatari spoke with no discomfort or shame. He even smirked at the memory, shaking his head as if feeling sorry for the director's clumsy attempts.

"Says much about his love life, doesn't it?" he asked Tala. "He was reduced to trying to solicit sex from mental patients. Then again, perhaps the reason he never sought his desires elsewhere was because, in the past, he could get away with it. He was so certain I'd accept, too. He'd thought that, coming from the wealthy family background, I would agree to anything just to get a taste of the pampered lifestyle that he thought I was used to. You should have seen the look on his face when I turned him down. Outraged. So much so he was stupid enough to try and use force, but that only brought him within my reach and were it not for the guards hearing his screams for help I would have strangled him with the chains binding my hands. He had me moved to the Lair, but I'd already resolved to finish what I'd started. It would take me five years to do it, but the reward was worth the wait. I'm sorry you weren't there to see it."

"You think I would have just stood there and watch you kill him? Don't put me in the same sick category as yours, Hiwatari. You don't know me."

Again, Hiwatari stopped with the spinning of the scalpel.

"Don't I?" he coolly challenged, going from relaxed to stubborn. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't I the one who saw right through your thin pretence when we first met? Weren't I the one who could see through your lies, and point out your flaws? If there is one thing I will openly admit to excelling in, it is knowing people. Knowing what to look for, when and where. I know how to spot anger beneath sorrow, and anxiety beneath bravery. You did try your best to block me out, but while you were pouring over the case I watched you; your every move, every twitch. Even just now, while sitting at the table, I knew you were constantly stalling in an effort to buy more time to come up a plan. You thought I didn't know that, whenever you shifted your eyes, you weren't avoiding mine, but were secretly searching for something to use against me. And yes, had you gone for those knives sooner, before I moved, it would have been a costly mistake on your part—so, good for you for waiting on that one. What it all boils down to, Officer Ivanov, is that I knew and understood everything there is about you in those first twenty minutes, whereas you've been struggling with your own identity for twenty years."

"In that case, you know I wouldn't have stood back and watch you commit murder," Tala said, standing his ground.

" … No, you wouldn't have," Hiwatari smiled. "But it would have spared me the trouble of having to come all the way over here."

"And why did you?"

The speed with which Hiwatari moved was almost too quick for Tala to follow. One second the man was standing there, leaning against the table, toying with the scalpel, and then suddenly Tala felt a force strike his hand out of nowhere. His arm was wretched back and he heard the clatter of the knife as it struck the floor. Tala was able to reverse the hold and tried to grab the knife, only for it to be kicked away, wedging tightly beneath the fridge, well beyond his reach.

Thinking fast, he swung his free elbow back but it was caught, along with his other arm, and both were folded and locked behind his back. Just as he was about to kick out the hand released him but he felt the sharp prick of the scalpel in his side. He instantly froze, afraid that any movement would drive the scalpel even deeper. The hand not wielding the scalpel wrapped its arm around his torso, pulling him back and caging him in.

It all happened so fast, so silently. Tala waited tensely, but Hiwatari did nothing more than hold on, breathing unusually loud. Tala thought the other was out of breath, then quickly dismissed the theory because Hiwatari had pulled off the whole thing with very little effort. He wasn't tired or out of breath. A shiver, strong enough for Tala to feel it against his back, coursed through Hiwatari's body and he leaned over Tala's shoulder, bringing them cheek-to-cheek.

"Let me go," Tala said slowly, softly.

The scalpel made a superficial cut down his side, silencing him. The scalpel was then raised to rest against his throat.

"Don't ruin the moment," Hiwatari said. "Besides, I have a proposition for you. You will blink once to answer 'yes', and twice if your answer is 'no'. Are you interested to hear it, now that I have your utmost attention and cooperation?"

Tala blinked once, though he pressed his head back against Hiwatari's shoulder, trying to put even the smallest sliver of space between his throat and the scalpel.

"Then let's talk about our mutual friend: Dox. What happened today—no, yesterday, with the third victim? Did you find him?"

Tala blinked once, aware of the touch of the fingers softly stroking his side.

"I will now allow you to tell me who it was."

"Wyatt Ishida."

The stroking stopped, but the scalpel pressed against his air pipe. The slightest bit more pressure and it would slice his throat open.

"Is he alive? Blink," Hiwatari said. Something had changed in his voice.

Tala blinked once, holding his breath when he felt the muscles in Hiwatari's arm tighten, as though ready to carry out the threat of decapitation. He didn't trust Hiwatari's earlier assurance that he needn't fear for his life. Tala's body instantly tensed at the thought, and Hiwatari felt it. He made a hushing sound as he moved the scalpel, leaving enough room for Tala to swallow without risking injury.

"Don't be nervous," Hiwatari said, "otherwise you might get hurt. So, Ishida's alive. But only just, from what I heard of your talk with Dr Tate. Good for you, officer; finding one alive. I don't suppose you or anyone on the force has the slightest idea of what to do next, though, and I doubt that Dox will be as lenient with the last four sinners. And you know, don't you, that everyone's waiting on _you _to solve this?"

Tala didn't respond in any way.

"Do you want to get Dox?" When Tala blinked he asked, "Why? Speak."

"To stop him from killing. To make Japan a safer place for its citizens," Tala said.

The arm around his waist forced him to turn around, then, in one smooth movement, lifted him up onto the counter. Tala tried to push himself off, but Hiwatari pinned him there, standing between his spread legs—though never making any body contact—and never letting the scalpel stray too far from his neck. Pushing aside the knife block, sliding it out of Tala's reach, Hiwatari used the scalpel's tip to carefully poke Tala beneath the chin, forcing his head up.

"It sounds like your professors have done a good job brainwashing you already," Hiwatari said, tapping Tala's chin with the blunt side of the scalpel, languidly resting his weight on the arm planted on the counter next to Tala's thigh. "Protect the people … Make a difference … You honestly believe you can make the world a better place?"

Tala blinked.

"You won't, Officer Ivanov," Hiwatari said bluntly, growing more and more serious as he went on. "Even if you were to round up every murderer; every child-molester; every rapist; every wife beater; every abusive parent; every con-artist; every drug-dealer; every thief; every racist; every terrorist; every politician: it would change _nothing_."

This time, Tala ignored the scalpel, ready to argue that point, but was silenced when the blade was placed against his lips.

"You won't agree with me," Hiwatari said, lightly tracing Tala's mouth with the scalpel. "But if you ever catch Dox, you will quickly realize the hard truth. Everyone will cheer and congratulate each other, and there will be shoulder-patting, but when the excitement has died down, and you descend from your success, back down into reality, you will see that you haven't even made a dent in the world."

The scalpel lowered back to his neck, but Hiwatari reached up with his other hand and brushed away the red hair Tala was trying to blink out of his eyes. Tucking the strands behind Tala's ear, Hiwatari's hand stayed there, cupping the side of Tala's head.

"If you wish to become a full-fledged detective in order to apprehend criminals—like the ones who killed your father—and bring them to justice, that's one thing. But if you join the force with the genuine belief that you can make a difference in the world you are only setting yourself up for dismal disappointment. No matter how much you try, you can only save a few, Officer Ivanov. For ever one person who owes you their life, you will fail to save the lives of tens of thousands. As long as there are humans, crime will prevail, because for every police officer who tries to do good, there are hundreds of average Joe's who have it in their genetic makeup to do bad."

Tala didn't realize he'd been shaking his head until Hiwatari took hold of him by the chin, stilling his movement.

"People will always kill, officer. And while you might eventually succeed in catching a killer, it will always be too late to save that first victim. You can deny it now, but there's no denying that, in time, you will become just like your fellow officers: indifferent. After just a few years of experience, things will no longer surprise you. You won't even bat an eye at the bodies that are fished out of lakes or dug up from basements. Not every case can be solved, and the corpses will have their files pushed to the back of the archives' shelves as times passes, until they are considered, no longer victims, but used storage space. So, I suggest you revel in this game between Dox and the authorities, because once he's caught, once you've officially joined a force, routine will set in, and nothing deadens the soul like a routine. You believe that catching Dox will be your making, but it will only break you." Reading Tala's eyes, Hiwatari added, "Something you want to say? You can speak easy again, if you want."

"You think that I—that the police _will_ catch Dox," Tala said, pushing the hand holding his chin away. "How can you be so sure?"

Hiwatari didn't respond to his hand being removed, but the other hand placed itself on Tala's knee as the man leaned in.

"Because I am sure of _myself_, and I am going to help you catch him."

Tala leaned backwards, but that only served the unwilling invite for Hiwatari to follow him to the point where the man was hovering over him, yet still without making much physical contact. Tala never allowed himself to forget that, while having Hiwatari practically laying on top of him was worrying, it was the scalpel he had to mind.

"Are you going to tell me who he is?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.

Hiwatari didn't answer at once; he was staring, fixatedly, at Tala's mouth.

"No," he finally said when Tala didn't lick his lips again, "but I said I'd make you happy, and that's exactly what you'll be once he's in your custody."

"Why not tell me now?"

"That would be cheating, officer," Hiwatari said, tapping Tala on the tip of the nose with the harmless end of the scalpel. "I could just give you a name right now, but what can you learn from that? A vexing case like this one is a once-in-a-lifetime learning experience. Your mind is almost as sharp as this scalpel: telling you all you need to know will only dull it."

" … You said that … " Tala couldn't think. "You just berated me for thinking that catching Dox will make a difference. That it would make me 'happy'. But now you want me to catch him so that I can be happy. Which is it, Hiwatari?"

"See? Your mind needs stimulation," Hiwatari said, holding himself up on one arm while he drew invisible patterns on Tala's stomach with the scalpel. "The whole purpose of you being here, in Japan, is Dox. Of course, to you, his capture will bring happiness. Regardless of whether I agree with your idea of happiness, I promised it to you the day we met, and if getting Dox is what will put a smile on your face, then I am obliged to keep that promise.

"However," he placed the sharp blade of the scalpel right against the side of Tala's head and lowered himself even further, bringing their bodies in contact, "I never said _when_ I'd make you happy, so I am free to bide my time and watch you plough on. Because I'm also selfish, Officer Ivanov, and there's something for me in this as well."

Resting back on his elbows, Tala was breathing heavy. He could no longer see the scalpel, and on top of that, Hiwatari had him trapped in a position that was so vulnerable that even a last-ditch attempt to free himself would be suicidal. He knew exactly where the phone was, and where the gun was, but getting to either wasn't looking very likely right now. Talking, delaying, was all he could do.

"What would that be?" he asked.

"You will get your happiness, but once the reality I spoke sets in, you will see that I was right all along, and you will crack," Hiwatari said. He repositioned himself, and Tala was surprised to find that the scalpel was no longer in the man's hands. However, the tiny window of opportunity already closed when Hiwatari caught his wrists, forcibly pinning him down for the first time. The red eyes burned into his from beneath the grey bangs and Hiwatari's mouth was twisted into a cruel grin. "You will crack, and I will make sure to be around to hear every last piece fall. Because you are a threat to me, officer. Not really my enemy, but you might just lead to my downfall, and I cannot allow that. Only one of us can win, and I have never lost a game."

"I will not play your games."

Either the way he said it or the defiant look he was giving Hiwatari made the other take his decision seriously. To Tala's further surprise, Hiwatari released him, straightened and stepped back. Sitting up, Tala searched the countertop for the scalpel, but it wasn't there. Presumably, Hiwatari still had it on his person, somewhere; his hands were empty.

"What do you want, Hiwatari? What's the point to all of this?" Tala asked.

Hiwatari, who'd been watching the ticking hand of the clock on the wall, turned to him, as if seeing him for the first time, then looked towards the living room. From the slight tilt of the head Tala knew the other was listening to something, probably the television. Hiwatari's hearing was much sharper than Tala thought, because the television's volume was low he himself could only hear an indiscernible murmur. Almost as though forgetting all about Tala, Hiwatari exited the kitchen.

'The gun!' Tala remembered with a start, and quickly followed.

The living room was empty, but the balcony doors were open, letting the bitter cold night air inside. Hiwatari was out there, leaning against the railing as he looked out over at the colourful neon glow of Tokyo's nightlife.

"You."

"What?" Tala asked, staying just inside the threshold.

"I figured out a way to escape my cell within the first three months of being placed in the Lair, but I never saw the need to. There's nothing for me out here. At least, in the institute, Boris was a fun enough distraction, but out here I'd be bored, and if there's one thing I fear, it's boredom. I probably would have stayed put until I was too old and frail to even move or remember my own name. But then, you came along."

Hiwatari turned and Tala could actually see the red gleams in his eyes.

"I enjoyed your presence, and at first I was content to simply talk to you through the barrier. But when Boris found out, and when he dragged you away, I knew you'd never return. And I wouldn't have that. Boris denied me almost everything, but I would not allow him to deny me of _you_."

Tala felt as though he'd been punched in the chest. He didn't even move as Hiwatari started towards him, walking at a languid pace. In his mind, he just kept repeating the same thing:

'Eleven people died because of me … Eleven people died because of me … Eleven people died because of me … Eleven people … '

"I was disgusted, angered, when I saw the footage of Boris trying to force you to submit to him in his office," Hiwatari said, standing right on the other side of the threshold, staring Tala right in the eyes. "But I must admit that I have imagined ravaging you as well."

The confession made Tala's face heat up. Remembering his own inappropriate thoughts on Hiwatari as Boris had pinned him onto the desk only made him blush more. But, he told himself, his imagination had simply been in a desperate state; desperate enough to imagine it was anyone else but Boris.

"But unlike Boris," Hiwatari went on, "I will not resort to something as brutish and primal as physical force. Even back there in the kitchen, when I had you on that counter, the desire to have you almost crippled me, but I will not lower myself to an act of rape. I needed to come out here, for some fresh air, to calm myself, yet every time I look at you … "

Hiwatari had made several suggestive comments during his visits, but Tala had brushed them off as nothing more than strategic taunts to make him uncomfortable. But now, hearing how Hiwatari had escaped and killed … how he had become so inexplicably interested in him …

No, Tala didn't want to think about that. Hiwatari wanted him to, but it could be just another one of the man's mind games.

"Where's Spencer?" Tala asked, turning his back on Hiwatari and walking away, secretly eyeing the coffee table. "Is he safe?"

But Hiwatari wasn't allowing him the room to plan; he was right behind Tala when the redhead looked back. When Hiwatari grabbed him again, it was in a loose hold around the waist.

"So thoughtful of others," Hiwatari said, his lips close enough to brush the corner of Tala's mouth. When Tala jerked away the other sighed. "That's yet another problem of yours. You give so much to others, and keep nothing for yourself."

Something gleamed between the boxes of paper on the table.

"Whereas you love no one but yourself and the sound of your own voice," Tala said, pretending to be taking a step back to get away from Hiwatari's hands while he was actually inching towards the table. There, laying in semi-plain sight, was the phone. "And this isn't a contest of self-love to begin with. This is just between you and me, and you can't win this one."

"Oh?" Hiwatari raised a brow, eyes drifting in the general direction of the phone. "And what makes you say that?"

Tala answered by lunging for the table, but Hiwatari was even quicker and managed to reach past Tala to grab the phone. But, the moment he laid hands on the phone, Hiwatari realized that Tala had tricked him, and now it was too late. Tala twisted around and aimed the gun—which had been completely concealed from Hiwatari's viewpoint—directly between the red eyes.

"Because you are insane," Tala said simply, pressing the nuzzle against the skin and grabbing the phone out of the man's hand.

He forced the other to rise and walked Hiwatari backwards, towards the balcony doors, into a more open area where the man wouldn't be able to grab or use any distractions. Hiwatari looked completely unperturbed by the gun, though he might have been slightly annoyed with himself that he'd been duped.

"You won't shoot me," Hiwatari said, looking past the barrel at Tala.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"Because then Dox will win."

Tala's finger on the trigger trembled, but Hiwatari wasn't done.

"And furthermore, could you really shoot someone, after you saw your own father shot to death?"

Blood splatters in the snow … His father's lifeless eyes staring up at him …

"That was different," Tala said.

"It is, but not in your mind. It's frustrating, isn't it, officer? Caught between what you know you must do and what you can do. You could shoot me, and by doing so besmirch what few memories you have of your father, or you miss your one chance and hope that someone else finishes the job for you. It should be an easy enough choice for a sharp officer such as yourself, but you are conflicted, and that's the way it'll always be. You're trapped, like a wild wolf in a cage, and no matter how many times you pace those bars, there is no way to escape."

Bringing up his other hand to steady his grip, he struggled to make a comeback, but Hiwatari's observation had hit a very sensitive nerve. The man looked surreal, standing before the open balcony doors, backlit by city lights under the dark sky.

"I can't let you leave," Tala said softly.

"Believe me, I'd rather not leave," Hiwatari said, gently pushing the gun away with a finger. "I'd rather spend the night here, preferably in your willing company, but we can't all get our way. I wouldn't go running to your fellow coppers just yet: I'm worth more to you free than imprisoned. Besides, there's someone at the door."

The doorbell rang shrilly, echoing almost painfully in Tala's ears. He looked back when he heard a very familiar bark.

'Wolborg.'

"You … " he said to Hiwatari, but found himself staring at an empty spot where the fugitive had been just seconds ago. "Shit!"

Turning in a circle, he quickly established that he was alone. Even as the doorbell rang a second time, and the barking grew more frantic, he then ran out onto the balcony and looked over the side, but Hiwatari had vanished.

Like a ghost, he'd slipped away into the night.

The doorbell rang a third time, and Wolborg's barking was only getting louder. Numbly, Tala hid the gun behind him and opened the door. Wolborg tore inside, growling madly as he sniffed out the room, confirming Tala's suspicion as the scent trail led the dog out onto the balcony.

"Keep that dog quiet!" someone demanded from down the hall where four or five other heads were peeking out of their apartments to see what all the ruckus was about.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Yuka said, dressed in a woolly night robe and slippers, looking like she'd been dragged out of bed herself. "It's alright now."

Grumbling, the other tenants closed their doors.

"I didn't mean to come calling this late," Yuka said to Tala, squinting up at him with sleepy eyes. "Wolborg was well enough when I went to bed, but around fifteen minutes ago his restlessness woke me up. I tried giving him something to eat or drink to help him calm down and sleep, but he suddenly began scratching on my door. He took off quite a bit of the paint—don't worry, the door probably needed a new coating, anyway—and when I didn't react fast enough he started throwing himself at the door, as if trying to break it down. I was so worried he'd hurt himself I had no choice but to come over, as it seemed obvious that he wanted to come home. I know you don't get enough sleep as it is, so I'm sorry for waking you. Do go straight back to bed, and I'll see you later … Are you alright, dear?"

Tala hadn't heard half of her explanation. Though he was looking right at her, he wasn't fully aware of her. Still gripping the gun behind his back, he only managed an answer after she'd asked the same question three times.

"Just … I'm just tired," he said, eyes flicking from one side to the next, searching the hallway, half-expecting to see red eyes leering at him from the shadows or from around a corner.

"Do you want me to make you some special tea? It will help you settle down."

"No …No thank you. Go … We'll be alright," Tala said as Wolborg nudged him in the side. "I'll see you later, Yuka. Good night."

Confused, Yuka returned the wishes and shuffled off. The moment her back was turned Tala closed the door and locked it. He ran to the balcony doors and locked those as well. He then checked and locked every window in the apartment, throwing the curtains close as a final level of precaution. Returning to the living room, he realized he was still gripping the gun. He threw it on the couch, disgusted, and sank to the floor. Wolborg nuzzled him and he threw his arms around the furry body.

"You sensed him, didn't you?" he asked the dog. "You sensed he was in there, and you made sure to get Yuka out of here before he did anything to her."

Wolborg whined, licking Tala's face and scratching at him with a large paw.

"You did good, buddy," Tala insisted. "You saved her life. I'm proud of you."

Despite being so big, Wolborg managed to curl up into Tala's lap and the two of them just sat there, finding courage in the other's company. Turning off the television, Tala rested his head on top of Wolborg's, trying to get his head around how the night had turned out. While dozens of thoughts flitted through his mind, one haunted him the most.

He'd let Hiwatari escape.

He'd had the golden opportunity to shoot the man, and he'd chickened out.

Hiwatari escaped the asylum because of him.

Hiwatari got away again because of him.

Hiwatari was a loose cannon, far more dangerous than Dox. Had Tala not been so inexperienced, so … scared, he could have stopped Hiwatari, but he'd allowed the other to play with his mind. He chose his personal insecurities rather than the public's security, and in return for not having the guilty conscience of having killed a man, he'd allowed someone with no conscience at all the chance to go out and kill many.

"I have to tell Bryan," Tala said, reaching for the phone. "Hiwatari couldn't have gotten far … We can still get him."

Before he could finish dialling Bryan's cell, though, the phone rang, startling them. Without thinking, and his mind still on his intended plan, he answered with the other's name already on his lips

"Bryan, quick! Hiwatari—"

"_Ratting me out so soon, Officer Ivanov?"_

Gripping the phone, Tala looked around, but of course Hiwatari wasn't there. Still, his voice alone was almost as overpowering as his presence. Tala even held the phone away from his ear, trying to create even more distance between him and the other.

"Where are you?" he demanded, hand going for the gun that lay nearby. He could hear the sound of traffic on the other end of the line.

"_You don't have to know that. All you have to bear in mind is that, were you anyone else, I would be on my way back up to you to make sure you do not make another attempt at informing anyone else of my visit. But injuring you would be a crying shame, so I'll only give you this final warning: raise the alarm, and you better make sure to inform the proper authorities to get a few body bags ready. I am not playing now, officer. Leaving you has put me in a dour enough mood as it is: don't push me."_

Tala heard that this was no bluff. Informing the police would get people killed, but keeping it a secret would still put the public in danger, as well as go against his own moral code. He'd be lying to his friends and colleagues at the station, and he didn't know how long he could lie to Bryan about something this important.

Tala was caught; conflicted …

"_Still pacing that cage, officer. Still looking for the exit. It never once occurred to you that perhaps there is no open door; that there is no exit. I have offered you a way out, and now you're too scared to leave the safety of the cage. You can't have it both ways. You cannot have freedom and security."_ The voice changed, from dead serious to conversational. _"I have some personal business to attend to so I cannot visit you for a few days. Still, seeing as Dox offs one victim per week and there are three left on the list you have three weeks till the grand finale. That's not a lot of time, so choose now: accept my help, or go running to your Captain."_

Accept Hiwatari's help, and effectively sell his soul to the devil; or refuse, and watch others suffer the consequences. But so long as Hiwatari's free, the danger remained … but if the police pursue him, then there definitely would be fatalities. But allowing Hiwatari to manipulate him … would it be for the good of the public? But where would it then end? How much would Hiwatari abuse his power if Tala said yes? Or was he already abusing it? No matter which he picked, it didn't change the fact that Hiwatari would have gotten his way. Hiwatari refused to return to prison, and the reason he'd left it in the first place, he claimed, was Tala.

"_Back and forth, back and forth,"_ Hiwatari sighed over the line. _"Aren't you growing tired of all that pacing, officer? You may be safe in the cage, but everyone else is on the outside, including me. You can do nothing as long as you are caged … "_

Wolborg's ears were flat, the sound of Hiwatari's voice alone enough to make him bury his face in Tala's side.

'It's my fault he's out there,' Tala thought. 'If I say yes, at least I'll be in contact with him. At least I might be able to negotiate with him. As long as … ' He shuddered violently. 'As long as I give him what he wants, he might cooperate in return and _not_ kill.'

"I … " Tala said, but his mouth refused to say it out loud.

"_Aye?"_ Hiwatari teased.

"I … I accept your help, but on one condition—"

"_It's too early to talk about conditions. I will be out of town, so take the time to sit down and think things over. The case, that is. And, once you're ready, come see me."_

Tala didn't argue. If he was going to try to win over the other's mercy, he had to start now by showing his trust.

"Where can I find you?" he asked.

"_Doesn't really matter. Just don't be late last week. And remember: come alone."_

The line went dead.

Tala dropped the phone and rested his head on fisted knuckles, rubbing his temple. He could still hear that voice in his head, and feel that body against his, and their growing familiarity was horrifying to acknowledge. He tried not to imagine what Hiwatari's demands would be, but the man had made them pretty clear. And yet, if Hiwatari did not intend to force Tala to submit to him, how was he expecting to get his way? He couldn't possibly believe that Tala would willingly …

Cringing, Tala shakily got to his feet and willed himself to think of anything else.

"Three victims … What did Hiwatari mean with only three victims? There were four cardinal sins left," he said to Wolborg, grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself. "And what does 'don't be late last week' mean? What sort of puzzle is that?"

His steps were uneasy as he walked over to the balcony doors and, taking a deep breath, parted the drapes. The balcony was empty. Opening the doors, he stepped out into the cold. Tokyo city looked to have grown and spread in size. Somewhere in there, were now two murderers. Finding either would be like finding a bloody needle in a haystack, but at least Hiwatari was willing to be found, albeit by Tala alone.

"What are you planning, Hiwatari?" Tala wondered, leaning on his elbows on the railing. "Where are you going, and why are you inviting me to come along?"

The city lights pulsed lazily. Feeling drained and tired himself, Tala turned his back on the view and headed back inside, with Wolborg trotting nervously at his feet, head low and tail between his legs.

Tbc …

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**A/N:** Ya'll have no idea how tempted I was to go all-out yaoi in this chapter.

Read & Review, please.


	11. January 18 II

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

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_**Tuesday, January 18**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**06.50**_

"I guess I don't have to ask how your night went."

Tala jumped, looking down at the papers on his desk in bewilderment before realizing that the voice had come from his left, where Bryan was staring at him.

"Sorry to call you in so early on such short notice," Bryan said, pulling up a seat. "Someone didn't get the message through last night in all the confusion, but I needed you here today. Everyone has to attend this meeting. We've got some important people coming in from abroad, and decisions must be made today."

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, Tala slowly pulled himself out of his sleep-logged stupor, and the second his memory woke up he was assailed by the thoughts that had been dormant during his troubled sleep.

Decisions … agreements … Hiwatari …

"You okay?" Bryan asked when Tala suddenly stood and walked over to the cabinet, despite having no actual business there. Hurrying after him, Bryan caught him by the shoulders and after Tala half-heartedly tried to shrug him off Bryan persuaded him to turn around. "Tala, don't let the case get to you like this. You can't give in to it."

Can't give in … He shouldn't have given in … He should have pulled that trigger …

"Tala!" Bryan said, louder this time when Tala didn't respond quick enough.

"I messed up, sir," Tala whispered, running both hands through his hair. "I screwed everything up … I should have … "

Catching Tala's hands, which were tugging at his red hair, Bryan forced them to Tala's side and pulled him into an embrace. Tala rested his head on the other's shoulder, feeling disgusted and unworthy to be getting any sort of sympathy from the man he was supposed to be completely loyal and honest to, but he'd been up all night, agonizing. He just wanted someone to tell him that it was all right, but first he'd have to tell them about Hiwatari's visit. And he couldn't.

"Nothing has changed in the Dox investigation," Bryan said, rubbing the back of Tala's neck. "You've done a lot this past week; have attributed plenty to that case. And Hiwatari … that has nothing to do with you. He escaped because he wanted to, not because you asked him or anything like that. It's not your fault."

'It is! He followed me out of that asylum!' Tala's mind screamed. 'Eleven people died and their blood are on my hands as much as its on Hiwatari's. They died because of me. If I'd never gone there, Hiwatari never would have gotten out. It's all my fault!'

"Do you trust me, Bryan?" he asked softly.

He felt Bryan pull back, but Tala kept his eyes on the ground.

"You know I do," Bryan said.

"Do you believe that I'm doing my best here? That I'm doing what I believe is the right thing?"

"I trust your judgment, Tala. But why are you asking me this?"

" … Just asking," Tala lied, poorly.

Pushing away, Tala ran both hands over his face. If he looked as bad as he felt than he must look a fright, but Bryan still touched his face as though touching fragile glass.

"What do you want to tell me?" Bryan asked as he stared deep into Tala's eyes. "Why are you so afraid to talk to me? I trust you, Tala. You can trust me too."

"I … "

"Tell me, please," Bryan said. He looked worried as he combed his fingers through Tala's hair, trying to smooth it out again. "Whatever it is, it cannot possibly be worse news than Hiwatari's escape. I can handle it, Tala, honestly."

Hiwatari's trust … or Bryan's … Which was more important?

If Bryan ever found out that Tala had been withholding such crucial information from him it could put the final nail in their relationship's coffin. But if he gave Hiwatari away, actual people would die.

'You unleashed Hiwatari on the public,' he told himself as he let Bryan rub his back, melting into the soothing touch. 'You owe them whatever safety you can secure. I can't … I can't risk betraying Hiwatari … not yet … '

"Maybe later," he said, snapping out of it to extract himself from the caring arms once again.

Someone knocked on the door and opened it before Bryan could say anything.

"Excuse me, sir," said the officer who stuck his head into the room before opening the door further. "Pardon the interruption, but everyone is in the briefing room and are waiting on you."

"I'll be there shortly," Bryan said, waving the man off. He adjusted his collar and tie, but held Tala back when the redhead tried to flee after the departing officer. "Tala, for godsakes, what is it? You're really beginning to worry me."

"You have too much on your plate right now," Tala said, trying to sound rationally cool. He'd had time to pull himself together when Bryan's attention had been on the informer. "Now's not a good time. I don't want you—"

"Forget about _my_ feelings!" Bryan almost exploded, startling them both. He lowered his voice. "If anything, I owe you at least this much. Keeping whatever you want to say a secret just to spare me is cutting you up on the inside. I already hurt you so badly in the past … I don't want you to suffer again; not because of me."

No. He couldn't let the conversation turn down _that_ road again. Things were already complicated without Bryan dragging them both back down memory lane. There was no time, especially since he'd heard it all before.

"You have a strange habit of bringing up the wrong subjects at the wrong time," Tala said. "It's not just about me, and not even just about you. This might be for the best for everyone. And we're going to be late."

Unable to dispute the last statement, Bryan released a frustrated sigh but straightened his shirt and buttoned up his jacket before opening the door for Tala.

"After the meeting; after things have been arranged and temporarily die down, we will have another talk, Tala," he said as Tala passed him. "We can't keep this up for much longer. I need to know where things stand between us."

Tala nodded, but a voice in his mind cruelly scoffed.

'You know exactly what's standing between the two of you,' the voice, which could very well be his conscience, said. 'Kai Hiwatari.'

They reached the appointed room without saying anything more. Two other men met them at the doors, awaiting further instructions from Bryan. Then the doors were opened and heads turned as they walked past rows and rows of chairs.

Even though the room was one of the biggest in the station, it was only just large enough to house them all. There were no formal seating arrangements, and not enough chairs, so some had to resort to sitting on the tables at the back, or leaning against walls. Tala noticed that a sizeable number of people were keen on a group of strangers seated on the far left. He couldn't see their faces clearly, but they were most likely the foreign investigators Bryan had talked about.

He saw two familiar faces sitting in chairs behind the makeshift podium where Bryan would address the crowd. Emily had her notepad with her, as always, and Michael, sitting next to her, was looking over the crowd with casual interest, though he sat up straighter when Bryan wordlessly directly Tala to take a seat next to them.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, as though no one wanted to be in there.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, including our guests and international colleagues," Bryan said, nodding at them all before getting straight to business. The screen on the wall above and behind him lit up as an all too familiar face was projected on it.

While everyone else stared at the screen, Tala tried to subtly close his eyes and turn away, but that only made the images of the night before much clearer and poignant in his head. The skin on his thighs crawled as he remembered how Hiwatari had had him up on the counter and he bit his tongue to stop it from licking his lips.

'What am I thinking?! Hiwatari, what the hell did you do to me?'

"Kai Hiwatari," Bryan said, unaware of Tala's silent plight. "You all know his history. More than five years ago a meeting was held in this very room in which minds were put to the test and plans were hatched. Plans that, eventually, led to Hiwatari's capture. The media around the world loosely used the word 'luck' to describe the success of our hard work. I hope that, together, we can prove to them that the first time wasn't about luck. But this is not just about proving the media wrong. Hiwatari is dangerous."

" …_I am not playing now, officer … raise the alarm, and you'd better make sure to inform the proper authorities to get a few body bags ready …"_

'Why are you doing this to me? You claim not to hate me, but you enjoy seeing me suffer,' Tala thought, staring at Bryan along with everyone else but not really hearing what he had to say. 'You said you wanted to make me smile … but it's all just for your own amusement … '

"What exactly is the situation with Dox?" one of the foreign women asked. "Could you sum it up for us briefly?"

When did they start talking about Dox? How long had it been since Bryan stopped talking?

Tala forced himself to pay attention, else he lose complete track of the proceedings.

"Each victim was killed in the name of one of the seven cardinal sins. The first, defence attorney Kevin Ginko, was killed on January 3, on 'charges' of greed. A week later, on January 10, Gary Gao was force to eat himself to death to repent for his gluttony. Yesterday, on January 17, we found Wyatt Ishida's, literally minutes from death, bound to his bed in his rented apartment. Although he was still alive, the word 'sloth' was written on his wall, an obvious connection to Dox. So, so far, there have been three victims."

"One per week. Then there will be four more victims within the next month?" the same woman asked.

"That is the wrong mentality for this job. I am not asking anyone here to be optimistic, but I expect you all to be dedicated and determined. Hard work, not happy thoughts, is what we'll need to close this case, along with Hiwatari's, for good."

"Yes, sir."

"Has the Tokyo police been able to find out anything about Dox himself?" the woman's colleague asked.

"So far, no, but we are piecing together his character," Bryan said. "And making slow but steady progress."

"And, what is profile so far?" someone far in the back asked.

Bryan turned to Tala, and all eyes turned to him. Suddenly thrust into the spotlight, Tala stood and walked to the front as Bryan stepped to the side. He should have expected this, but felt very unprepared. Whether it was his fault or the poor communication, he couldn't tell, but now that he was standing before a crowd of experienced officers and foreign intelligences, he couldn't start making excuse.

Tala nodded in the general direction where the question had come from.

"I arrived on the night Gary Gao's body was found, and also witnessed first hand the results of his torturous containment of Wyatt Ishida. He took his time with all three crimes, and seemed to have been comfortable at every crime scene and their surroundings. Whether he personally knew the victims remains unclear, but he knows the layout of this city well enough to get where he wants to go, when he wants to, right on time. As Lieutenant Balcov said, these murders can be considered forced attrition—"

"Forced _what_?" someone asked out loud, clueless, making a couple others chuckle.

Though it hadn't been a mean-spirited question, it disturbed Tala's concentration and rattled his already shaky nerves enough for him to falter.

"Er, attrition … It's … It's when you regret your sin, but not out of love for God."

"Why is Dox forcing his victims to repent their sins when he kills them?" a woman asked. "What can you make of that?"

"It might have something to do with his own past," Tala said, noting that the question sounded a bit impatient, which only made him more nervous. "Either he himself did something bad, or he was subjected to bad things, and he is now punishing others. However, I cannot say for sure whether he is actually a religious man."

"But you say he's punishing others using the cardinal sins. Which is it?"

Gripping the podium, Tala was feeling the pressure as the sea of eyes in the room appeared to grow more and more unfriendly.

"Of course, he could just be doing it for the shock value. Or he is using the teachings of the Church against others in a mocking, morbid way. Hiwatari said—"

"_You_ spoke to Hiwatari?" a man sitting on the front row asked incredulously as people behind him shared stunned looks and puzzled whispers. "What force are you with?"

"I'm ... a criminology student from Russia," Tala said, which only generated louder whispers. "I was called in to interview Hiwatari, in an attempt to tap into his knowledge of the workings of a killer's mind. He contributed several key clues to the Dox case."

"And he spoke to _you_?" someone asked, awed. "How did you manage that?"

" … _I must admit that I have imagined ravaging you … "_

"I'm afraid I don't honestly know," Tala said.

"And how does he tie into all this, you think?" asked a portly man sitting on a table.

"Hiwatari and Dox know each other."

That generated another wave of whispers and gasps.

"Are they working together?" someone asked.

"I doubt that," Tala said. "I don't know whether they are old acquaintances or old enemies, but it's very improbable that they are partners in crime. Hiwatari claimed to have operated alone in the past, and so far Dox seems to be doing the same thing."

"Could Dox be the reason why Hiwatari escaped?"

'No. I am,' Tala thought bitterly. "It's a possibility that cannot be ruled out."

"Could Hiwatari have escaped to purposefully create such a chaos to take much of the attention off Dox? Wouldn't that be proof of their alliance?"

"I don't know. Perhaps—"

" 'Apparently', 'possibly', 'I don't know': is there anything you _can_ tell us with any certainty?" an annoyed voice asked from in the crowd.

"You are out of line," Bryan warned, stepping in, but the man, who boldly got to his feet to identify himself, did not back down.

"With all due respect, Captain Balcov," he said, "this young man is clearly in over his head. There is no room or time for a student to be on either cases. If you had brought in someone with more know-how at least one of these two cases would have been further along by now."

With the crowd muttering their support, Tala was grateful when Bryan nodded at him to return to his seat. Bryan continued to exchange words with the man, and eventually won the verbal sparring and received an apology, but having his boss fight his battle for him only made Tala feel as inexperienced and incapable as the man had accused him of being.

"Shrug it off. Just shrug it off," Michael said out of the corner of his mouth. "Fucking Euro-trash, most of them. They've been moping ever since you revealed that you got Hiwatari to talk. You should feel honoured that you succeeded in making them pull their heads out of their own asses long enough to bitch."

Michael was doing his best, but even if Tala hadn't had the worst night in his life, this poor presentation had weighed him down.

" … Hiwatari?" someone finished off their question.

'I hate you. I hate you,' Tala told the face only he could see. 'Hiwatari, I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone!'

"Believing in the tactic of 'going with what works'," Bryan was saying, "I contacted a key operative from our first run-in with Hiwatari, and he has agreed to join our cause for a second time. Of us all, it is safe to say that he knows Hiwatari best, and I know his help will be invaluable."

Someone who'd been sitting in the farthest corner of the room, out of sight and mind of everyone else, rose to their feet and began making their way down the narrow aisle that divided the room. The person's presence caught many off-guard and an excited whisper spread through the crowd.

The enthusiastic interest, however, were not shared by those sitting next to Tala.

"Hell. Fucking. No," Michael groaned at the sight of the man and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Emily's eyes went cold and she tapped her pen against her clipboard so hard it threatened the snap in two.

Tala, curious as to the nature of the man who was able to get such reactions out of Michael and Emily, studied the stranger. He didn't look like the other experts: he wore no uniform, but plain clothes, sneakers and a wide blue bandana that kept his spiky, dark red hair out of his face. His purple eyes regarded those staring at him apathetically, but the right corner of his mouth tugged slightlyt in a self-important manner. Walking with his hands in his pockets, he swaggered to the front.

"Who is that?" Tala asked Michael.

"Detective Jonathan 'Johnny' 'Asshole' McGregor," Michael said, now rubbing the side of his head as though in great pain. "Big shot highlander who's still basking in the glory of being the guy who took down Hiwatari. The guy was an ass-hat _before_ the arrest: surprisingly, he managed to become even _more_ irritating afterwards."

"I can't believe the Captain invited him back," Emily joined in, whispering from behind her clipboard. "He doesn't like McGregor any more than any of us. McGregor didn't leave us with a single good memory."

"Then why is everyone looking at him so adoringly?" Tala asked.

"Unfortunately, he's damn good at what he does," Michael answered. "He did get Hiwatari in the end."

'But … Hiwatari pretty much turned himself in,' Tala thought, not having a good feeling about this.

Stepping up to the podium, Johnny barely acknowledged Bryan with a tilt of the head, more intent on the audience. From his seat Tala could see Bryan's hands clench into fists from where they were safely hidden from view behind his back.

"Huh, I don't recall the Captain inviting him up here to address anyone," Michael said. "The guy grabs at any chance to be in the spotlight—he's like a fucking moth."

This time Tala smiled while Emily hid hers behind her clipboard.

As if to prove Michael right, Johnny took command of the podium, doing a good job of pretending that Bryan wasn't glaring at the back of his head.

"Hiwatari chose this moment for a reason," Johnny began, taking over the role of leader and organizer with unsettling ease. "When we caught him years ago he was ready to be caught. Likewise, he was now ready to get back out. To me, it seems very obvious that the trigger was Dox."

An impressive number of mouths dropped open, including Tala's. He hadn't expected anyone who hadn't heard Ray's story to know that Hiwatari had practically handed himself over. The cocky air about Johnny had vanished for now, replaced by a professional and analytic eye for detail and a confident voice.

"I read the Dox case files on my flight over and from what I know so far I can conclude that we are searching for a man who is in his late twenties, early thirties," Johnny continued, not pausing to let anyone ask questions yet. "If he had physically overpowered a man of Gao's size, Dox would have to be just as big, or even bigger, but someone like that would have stood out in the minds of other tenants, so it's more likely that he's of average height and weight and had use either cunning or deceive to get Gao into that chair and those chains. Dox also has no distinguishing features or, again, someone would have remembered a colourful stranger around the scenes of the crimes. He is definitely a local, but not necessarily a native. He's intelligent, evidence of a very good education, yet also a history of mental abuse. He's angry at others, not out of compassions for victims _like_ himself, but purely because what happened to himself. This is not a person who cares for others in the least. He objectifies them, even classifies them as nothing more than living sins."

Everyone was eagerly taking notes, impressed.

Folding his arms, Tala sunk lower in his chair.

"They'll be wanting to stuff those notes right down his throat by the end of the day," Michael said. "Let him hog the limelight. That'll keep him out of the way and allow you to actually get some work done. No one can deny what you've brought to both cases."

"Then why did Bryan, despite hating him too, bring him in?" Tala asked. "You heard Bryan: Johnny knows Hiwatari better than any of us. What use am I now that he's on board?"

"No matter what anyone says, you cannot just be dropped, because you're the only one in here who Hiwatari ever openly spoke to."

He certainly was the only one in here who Hiwatari ever dropped by to visit …

"Hiwatari hates McGregor," Michael said. "He _hates_ him. Whether his plans for the future were, Hiwatari did have McGregor on his ass the last couple of months leading up to the final showdown. McGregor got the recognition, but he couldn't even attend his own honour ceremony because he was hospitalized for six months."

"Six months?"

"Check out McGregor's right hand."

Johnny was using his left hand to gesture in the air as he spoke, but his right hand was kept behind the podium. It took a while, but then Johnny shifted and Tala saw that all that was left of the right hand's index finger was a stump.

"Hiwatari cut off his finger?" he asked, aghast.

"And that was his least serious injury," Emily said. "Apparently, when they'd finally met face to face, McGregor had pointed at Hiwatari, which Hiwatari perceived as a rude gesture. So, he _broke_ off the offending finger."

"Thank you, McGregor," Bryan interrupted the man who had not stopped talking since taking to the podium. Forcing the other to step back as he retook his place, the Captain ignored the insulted look Johnny gave him. "Now that we've all been acquainted, let's get down to business … "

Almost three hours later, the crowd got to their feet and filed out. Johnny McGregor, however, stood from the chair he'd commandeered nearby and climbed up onto the podium, much to everyone's silent dismay. Emily was the first to push her annoyance aside and held out a hand.

"It's a surprise to see you back here, McGregor," she said. "I know you want to catch Hiwatari as much as the next guy, but I would have thought you'd be hesitant to take on something as big as this all over again."

"From where I'm standing, this is still my case," Johnny said. "Anything involving Hiwatari is my responsibility, no matter how many times I have to drag him back into custody."

"Just remember you manners this time, Johnny Boy," Michael butted in, flipping his cap backwards. He cast a pointed look at the other's maimed hand. "Or else we'll have to change your nickname to 'Stumpy'."

Whereas Johnny had attempted some cordiality with Emily, he had no such reservations when it came to Michael. Giving the American a superior look, Johnny titled his chin up ever so slightly and made no show of hiding his dislike for the other.

"A new nickname, eh? I'm glad to see American intelligence finally evolving beyond the inbred knowledge of fast food and reality television," Johnny said airily. "'Stumpy' must be a leap in creativity for you. What was the last nickname you'd spend hours coming up with?"

"Can't tell ya," Michael grinned just as stiffly, nodding to Emily. "Not in the presence of a lady. But you might hear or read about it in the locker room, if you're patient enough."

"That's enough," Bryan said, taking no sides. "As long as you are on duty you will behave according to protocol and work together, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Michael said.

Barely acknowledging Bryan, Johnny suddenly turned on Tala, even though he hadn't said or done anything to warrant the abrupt attention. Johnny looked him up and down once, and looked completely unimpressed with the whole picture.

"And what's_ he_ going to do now?" Johnny asked Bryan as though he were talking to a subordinate. "I don't have time to baby-sit this one for you, Balcov."

"That won't be necessary," Bryan said before Michael could argue. "In fact, you and Tala might find each other's knowledge useful, which is why you will both be sharing the same office and working the same case."

"_What_?" Tala asked, and even then his shock was not as great as Johnny's.

"Balcov," Johnny said, the vein on the side of his temple about to burst, "I did not travel half way around the world to be saddled up with some teacher's pet. Either you let me do my job the way I always do or you're on your own. Besides, you can't seriously believe that a novice like him has any idea how to handle someone like Hiwatari."

"Weeelllll," Michael drawled. "Last time I checked you were short one finger, while Tala's got all of his. Plus he got Hiwatari to talk, whereas Hiwatari got you to cry and beg for your mother … "

"Shut up, Parker," Johnny snapped. "You don't know what you're talking about, as always. Your friend only ever faced Hiwatari when he was in his cell. Hiwatari tried, but he could not break me when he had the chance. Why not? Because I knew how to outsmart him, even when he's free. Tala here would never survive a face-to-face with Hiwatari. And that's what this will inevitably come down to: another us versus Hiwatari showdown."

It was only too tempting to throw Johnny's presumptions back in his face. Tala wanted nothing more than to tell him what had happened the night before; how he had survived a meeting with Hiwatari. But, not only could he not talk about it to anyone, he didn't want to. He didn't find anything about the agreement, or Hiwatari's interest in him, boastful in the least.

"McGregor," Bryan said, coming between the two and pushing Michael back. "The only reason you are here is because I called you here. If you want to stay, you will work with Tala. If you do not like my conditions then you can grab your bags and get on the next plane back to Scotland."

Despite the enormous challenge ahead of them, and the need for as many helping hands and minds as possible, Tala secretly prayed that Johnny would stubbornly refuse to cooperate.

"Fine. We'll do it your way," Johnny scowled, sinking Tala's hopes. "But just so you know, I don't need him. If he slows me down with questions and requests, I will do my best to have him removed from the case. You're the Captain, Balcov, but you're not the top dog. I can go to the higher ups, if the rookie gets in my way."

"You'd have all rights to do that," Bryan said. "But I doubt that that would be necessary. If you'd head down to administration they'll have your papers ready."

Having said what he wanted to say, Johnny gave Tala a particularly smug look and left, walking with his hands in his pockets as he sauntered out of the room.

"Man, I used to like Scotland," Michael said, cracking the bones in his neck. "Until that highland ass came along. Nine-fingered, deep-fried Mars bar-munching leprechaun … "

"Leprechauns are from Ireland," Emily said.

"Whatever. Speaking of Mars bars, I'm starving. You guys wanna grab something to eat?" Michael asked them. They all shook their heads. "Then don't come giving me puppy dog looks when I get back here with my lunch. I ain't gonna share with anybody today."

"You're a blessing to the charity community," Emily said dryly. "Before you go off to forage, Michael, we need to head down to the lab. Samples from Gao's apartment just returned from DNA testing."

"Greeeeaaaaat. Nothing revs up an appetite like examining dried vomit," Michael said, rolling his eyes as he followed her off the podium. "Then again, even that's more appealing than being stuck with McGregor. Good look, Tala!"

Not that Tala needed any reminding, but that did make him turn on Bryan with a betrayed look.

"Sir, _why_?"

"I don't like having him back here either, but it's not a matter of personal taste. We have to get Hiwatari as soon as possible, at all cost."

"And having McGregor smirking and scowling and throwing insults at me every chance he gets is not going to work miracles for me."

Bryan sighed, looking very worn-out after the long morning.

"Tala, please. Just do this, for me. Yes, McGregor is a pain in the ass. Yes, I wish I had a restraining order on him. And yes, it is only natural for you to want to beat the living shit out of him. But remember the reason why I sent you to the institution in the first place."

"Because I am 'adaptable'." Resigned, Tala hopped off the podium. "Fine. I'll give it a shot."

"If he gives you—Let me rephrase that: _when_ he gives you any grief, let me know," Bryan said. "Really, if anything's bothering you, come to me and I'll do what I can. I brought you into this situation, so it's only fair I help out as much as possible. Okay?"

Tala looked askew as the Captain caught up with him. Even though he had a million other things to deal with, Bryan was still looking out for others, as always.

'Why?' Tala asked himself the same question. 'Why did it all have to be wrecked by the one time he was only thinking about himself?'

"In fact ... would you mind coming over tonight?"

"Why?" Tala asked sharply.

"We need to talk."

"And why can't we do that here?"

"Because I don't want any more damn interruptions. Tala, I just want us to talk. After all that's happened—so much has happened, it's taken up all of our time and we haven't had the chance to just ... talk. This isn't a set up," Bryan said when Tala remained suspicious. "I'm not playing any games with you, and you won't walk into my place and find candles lit and a cooked meal or anything like that. I'm serious."

"And what will we be 'talking' about?"

"Whatever you want. I just want us to spend some time together. Just as friends, if it makes you feel more comfortable."

" ... Alright."

Perhaps an evening with Bryan would help take his mind off of Hiwatari ... Very unlikely.

They parted ways just outside the door, but before Tala could take more than a couple of steps his cell phone went off. For a split second, he froze when he didn't recognize the number. Only a handful of people knew his number. Who was this, and how had they managed to get a hold of him? Could it be … This didn't seem like something beyond Hiwatari's capabilities, or was he just being paranoid?

Stepping back into the briefing room and closing the door, Tala answered softly.

"Hello?"

"_Officer Ivanov? Er, hi. This is Ray. Ray Kon. You took a while to answer. Is this a bad time? This was the only number you gave me, and I know you must be really busy, but I … I guess you know why I'm calling …"_

"Hiwatari," Tala said, sitting down on the nearest bench with a sigh. Just what he needed: more reason to think about Hiwatari. "Ray, I'm afraid I don't have time—"

"_I think Kai tried to call me last night."_

"What?"

"_I can't believe it had to happen this way,"_ Ray said, distressed. _"At first I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I can't help … He killed all those people and … I love him, but I know he'll probably kill again. The phone rang and when I answered the person on the other end didn't say anything. I don't have any proof that it was him, but I just had this feeling and when I called his name the line went dead. I'm staying with Mariah, Tala, and I'm scared that Kai might do something to … I don't know. I just don't know what to do. Please, I need to see you, but I'm afraid about getting the police involved, especially since I'm not even sure it was him and I don't want to put you guys on the wrong track."_

'You put him in this situation,' Tala told himself. 'You owe him some explanation, some reassurance.'

Checking his watch, Tala took a deep but soft breath and said, "What's the soonest we can meet up this afternoon?"

Tbc …

* * *

**A/N:** What? Did you honestly expect me to write a Kai fic without including our bluenette's least favourite highlander? Don't worry, Johnny fans, I did not put him in here just to kill him off … Or did I?

Read & Review, please.


	12. January 18 III

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Tuesday, January 18**__**th**__**, 2004 **_

_**Time: 14.46**_

"C'mon, Red, look on the bright side: at least things can't get worse."

Sitting in a chair near the window, his feet up on the ledge, Michael was idly tossing a baseball in one hand, his other arm draped over the back of the chair. When Tala answered the presumption with a glare Michael winced and whistled.

"I knew Johnny wasn't from this planet, but what sort of creature, human or not, could _not_ love you? … He must be asexual … and a moron. Well, that last one's a proven fact."

Leaning back in his chair with a tortured groan, Tala threw an arm over his eyes before sitting up straight. Placing both hands on his desk, he stared out before him with a hopeless expression.

"I'm being punished," he concluded. "There's no other explanation. God is punishing me."

"I'm not a religious person, but even I don't believe that God could be _that_ cruel," Michael said, wheeling over. "Lucky for you, Johnny doesn't like spending too much time in the office. Not when he can be skipping around the department doing his 'Look at me!' rounds"

"He's so goddamn … ugh! It hasn't even been an hour and already I'm reaching my wit's end. He says he isn't a babysitter, but he's constantly hovering over my shoulder, demanding to know what I'm doing; where I got my information; why I didn't think it important to share my findings with him. It's almost as if he's purposefully trying to distract me."

"Don't flatter yourself, Ivanov."

Johnny walked in, closing the door behind him with his foot since he was carrying a large pile of papers. Giving Tala a dirty look, he dumped the load on his own desk, situated against the left wall, away from the window.

"Finished with your little parade already, Johnny?" Michael drawled, tilting his head back. "There might still be some lucky bastard in this building who doesn't know that you are back. Why don't you just fill your quota and go fuck up their day?"

Slamming down the map he had just picked up, Johnny stalked over and roughly pushed the chair back down on all four legs, forcing Michael's feet off the window ledge.

"You can give me that smart-ass attitude all you want, Parker, but remember that at the end of the day I am still your superior and I can pull ranks."

"Yeah, whatever," Michael yawned, unimpressed. "I'm going to go grab lunch."

Standing, Michael walked over to Tala's desk where the Russian had been silently watching the exchange, trying his best to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

"All this work's made me hungry again. Bring you back something?" Michael asked Tala. "A hamburger? A slice of pizza? A loaded gun? Some cyanide pills and a noose?"

Tala stifled a laugh.

"Again, I'll pass. I'm going out soon anyway."

"So I've heard. Give Kon my regards," Michael said, toying with his keys. "Eddie's supposed to have to files for you soon. Later."

Mock saluting Johnny with his middle finger, Michael whistled as he left, leaving Tala alone to deal with Johnny.

Tala's first impression of the man had been that of a rude, impatient and egotistical person.

Having actually spent some time in the other's company … his first impression had proven to be spot on.

When the Scotsman had moved into the office Tala had approached the man in a vain attempt to form some sense of partnership. Instead, Johnny had helped himself to Tala's notes, read the first few lines, and then tossed them back on the desk with a sneer. Next to pulling rank and ordering Tala to not disturb him, Johnny had then set down a number of rules that he himself did not adhere to.

As Michael had said, Johnny was constantly coming and going. What the reason was behind his inability to sit still for more than twenty minutes was beyond Tala, but, although the constant opening and closing of the door was distracting, he didn't mind it so much because at least he got some respite from the other.

Getting to his feet to retrieve his coat from the closet, he jumped when a voice asked from behind him, "Why are you meeting up with Ray Kon?"

Silently cursing Michael for letting that slip, Tala closed his eyes, quickly counted to ten, and answered very carefully, trying to keep it as short as possible.

"Just to talk."

"About what?"

"Don't know."

The closet's door slammed shut, almost crushing his hand. Tala glowered at his 'partner', who returned it with equal hatred.

"This is _my _case, Ivanov. You will not detain such information from me."

"Dox murdered two of Kon's friends. You're here to handle Hiwatari, not Dox, so this has nothing to do with you," Tala said, shrugging on his coat. "Now please excuse me, or I'll be late for my appointment."

One hand pinned his shoulder back against the closet and the other grabbed his chin. Taking advantage of Tala's surprise, Johnny stared him straight in the eyes, searching. Tala shivered at how nearly similar it was to the piercing stares of Hiwatari.

"This has nothing to do with Dox. Not this time," Johnny said with scary efficiency. He released Tala's face but gripped his shoulder tighter. "He must know about Hiwatari's escape, and for some reason he decided to contact you. Not the police; just you. He knows that you know more than you're letting on."

Tala grabbed the wrist and, using his thumb to place enough pressure on the weak point, successfully forced the hand to release him.

"_Never_ touch me again, McGregor," he said in a low voice. "I don't care who you are: you do that again I will not be as gentle."

Johnny snorted, but stepped back.

"I don't know what you've been up to all this time, pretty boy, but it ends here," he said. "Don't think you can just bat your eyes and I'll let you do whatever you want, like everyone else seems to do. If you want to dabble around in the Dox case, be my guest, but anything that has to do with Hiwatari goes through me."

Tala gave a dismissive tsk, but Johnny wasn't done.

"What, you think that you're more suited for this case than me? You think that, just because you had a couple little chats with Hiwatari, you know him better than I do? Even you can't be _that_ thick to not realize why he settled with you."

"Well, apparently I am," Tala said sarcastically as he packed his bag. "Lucky for me, you're the all-knowing expert here. Enlighten me."

"He knew he could manipulate you. You're nothing to him. A student with no chance of outsmarting him, period, yet with all the information of the outside world that he needed. He used you, and now he's tossed you aside. Whatever interaction you had with him is no longer relevant because, to him, you are no longer relevant."

'If only you knew … ' Tala thought. "We're all working to bring Hiwatari in. This isn't a one-man show, McGregor."

"_I_ am going to be the one to take Hiwatari down, because I'm the only one who can," Johnny insisted. "The key to getting Hiwatari is to get him interested. Once he learns that I'm back in town, he'll come out of hiding. He'll want vengeance, and I know how to use that against him. What is it about _you_ that could draw his attention? Nothing."

Tala paused, about to sling his bag over his shoulder.

"If I didn't know any better, Johnny, I'd say you're very possessive of Hiwatari."

Johnny frowned, but couldn't think of a quick enough denial.

"The way you keep undermining my contribution to this investigation, and my work with Hiwatari," Tala continued, not sure he wanted to believe his own words, "it's as if you're … jealous of me. I really wouldn't have thought it at first, but do I threaten you?"

"Don't get cocky," Johnny scoffed.

Tala stared at him for a while longer, then made a small sound of disbelief and walked out.

"Have it your way," he said, and closed the door behind him.

A few seconds later, though, the sound of the door being opened behind him made him look over his shoulder to find Johnny striding after him, clutching his own jacket. Tala didn't slow down, refusing to acknowledge the other even as he came up alongside him.

"I'll conduct this interview with Kon."

Tala felt a sudden rush of annoyance rush through him.

"And what gives you to right to take over my interviews?"

"Hiwatari is of first and foremost concern," Johnny said. "If you want to chat with Kon about his butchered palls do that some other time. Now that he's in town, I'll confront him on Hiwatari's escape."

"Confront him? You're talking as if he had anything to do with it! All you're going to do is scare him off with your accusations. Besides," he grabbed the other by the elbow, "you said it yourself: Hiwatari is your top priority, whereas mine's Dox. Ray is here to talk to me about Dox. You'd be obstructing my own investigation by muscling your way in."

Johnny was ready to take it up with him all over again but the sight of a group of people coming towards them from the opposite direction distracted him.

"Balcov," he flagged down.

Bryan looked up. Assessing the situation, he dismissed the men he had been talking to and walked over, a knowing look on his face.

"Yes, McGregor?" he asked, expressing slight impatience.

"I told you I'd be filing a complaint if this one got in my way," Johnny said, tossing his head towards Tala, who rolled his eyes.

"Sir," Tala stepped up, not about to give in, "McGregor's the one impeding my investigation. I arranged a meeting with Ray Kon earlier today and now McGregor's claiming that interviewing Kon over Hiwatari takes precedence over discussing the Dox case with him. I told him he can schedule his own interrogation with Kon, but today's my turn and I would appreciate it if McGregor would practice what he preached and not get in the way of others."

"This is a joke!" Johnny argued. "Had I been aware that Kon was already involved in the case I would have spoken to him already. Ivanov withheld that important piece of information from me for his own personal gain. I am willing to bargain, though: if Ivanov wants, he can accompany me to the interview, but only if he promises not to interrupt or get involved in it."

Tala could not remember the last time he wanted to hurt someone _this _badly.

"I respect your reasoning, McGregor" Bryan said, cutting eye with the smug highlander. "However, being the one who sent for Tala I will stick to my intuition and entrust this into his hands. We cannot risk your presence obstructing Tala in his work. You will not intrude on his meeting with Kon. Am I clear?"

Johnny took a deep breath, holding his head high in spite of his defeat.

"Why am I not surprised? Should have known that you'd side with your little lap dog," was all he said before pushing past them both. Hands in his pockets, he mumbled some less than flattering words that only Bryan could hear but continued on his way, stalking towards the stairs.

"How are you holding out?" Bryan asked, walking with Tala into the busier ground floor office space.

"I'd glare at you right now if he hadn't given me a headache."

"Then I guess I'll ask again later. I'll bring the aspirins."

Headache still brewing, he summoned up the last of his strength to send a weak glower to the taller man, who winked.

"I need a vacation," Tala mumbled. "One that involves either me lying on a warm beach, sipping a pina colada, or burying Johnny up till his neck in the sand and waiting for the tide to come in."

"That line forms to my right. Get a ticket," Eddie said, rising from behind a low cubicle wall, where he'd been talking on the phone. He held up a thick envelope. "Maybe this'll take you're mind off Johnny for a while."

Tala stared at the enveloped being waved before his face.

"Dude, Johnny must have damaged you already," Eddie said when Tala didn't immediately respond to the offer. "These are the school records on Hiwatari's old classmates you asked for. Check out the first one."

"Brooklyn Kingston," Tala read as he pulled out the first sheet of paper. "What about him?"

"Used to be number one at the university, until Hiwatari came along and smashed every record. Soon after Kingston started acting really weird, which soon turned to violence when he threw a professor's chair through a window. He was forced into therapy, where it was discovered that he suffered from borderline personality disorder. He was released back into his father's care and pretty much fell off our radar until the murders started. A lot of people, especially students and professors, pointed the finger at Kingston, thinking he was out for revenge. Media staked out his family estate for months until Hiwatari was caught."

Intrigued but catching the time on his watch, Tala shoved the entire envelope into his bag.

"I've got to go."

"I would have brought it sooner," Eddie said, "but I figured McGregor would have had his claws on it in no time if I had it delivered to your office."

"Smart move," Tala said.

"I'm doing my best to help you out here, but withholding information from your partner is making it very difficult for me," Bryan warned.

"He is _not _my partner. I'm just stuck sharing office space with him."

"Aw, ease up on him, sir," Eddie said, coming to Tala's defence. "You knew that we're all rooting for Tala here."

"I'll hand all the files over to McGregor once I'm done with them," Tala promised. "Which is more than he'd do for me if it were the other way round."

"Like I said, I'm not encouraging it," Bryan repeated though with less authority in his voice this time. "You should bring an umbrella along. It looks like it's going to rain."

"Yeah, they're saying that there may even be a big thunderstorm … I say we send Johnny out to do some field work, in a really empty field! Let's put it to a vote," Eddie said, raising his hand.

Muttering beneath his breath, Bryan walked away, though he did raise his hand just as he stepped into the elevator. Eddie slapped Tala on the back and jogged off to find Steven. While the image of Johnny getting struck by multiple lightning bolts made Tala smile, realizing it was nothing but a wishful dream was sobering.

* * *

_**Tuesday, January 18**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 15.30**_

Tala could tell that Ray was more excited than he was letting on. Sitting opposite each other in a booth at the front of the café, they had exchange no more than simple greetings, but Ray couldn't keep still in his seat.

"Ray," Tala said, putting down his coffee. "I know this is a difficult time for you. I know you're going through a whole range of emotions. But if I'm going to help you I'll need to know that you will listen to what I have to say. Not that I'm ordering you around, but that I want to do everything I can to help you and … to keep you safe."

Still dabbing his rain-streaked face and hair with the towel a helpful waitress had handed him, Ray paused, looking more subdued.

"Then you think it _was_ him? Was that really … " He looked around and leaned in over his own steaming cup. "Was it Kai on the phone?"

"It wouldn't be too farfetched to think that he'd try to contact you," Tala said. "And if it was him—If he made one attempt to reach you by phone, there's no telling how bold his next attempt will be … "

"What, you mean he would come in person?" Ray slowed as he stirred his drink. Again, his face lit up with conflicting emotions, which he seemed aware of as he quickly checked himself. He looked away, ashamed.

"To an extent, I can understand your feelings," Tala said. "You never stopped loving him, but the man is dangerous. And since you're currently staying at Mariah's, you're putting her life in jeopardy as well. There's no telling what he'd do if Mariah accidentally got in his way. For both her safety, and yours, I think it would be best if you both went under for a while."

"Go under? Like a sort of witness protection thing?"

"Not exactly, since you're not a witness of anything. It's a special division that temporarily relocates possible victims, given there's strong indication that those people are threatened."

"Threatened? Why do I have to hide from him? There's absolutely no way Kai would ever hurt me."

"He is a fugitive, Ray," Tala said strongly. "He's a man who's made up his mind that he won't be taken in without a fight. All of Japan knows he's out there, somewhere. Men in desperate situations will take drastic measures, and Hiwatari's mind was never all there in the first place. Things could go really wrong, really fast, and if you're with him he could do something we'd all regret."

"I know!" Ray quickly lowered his voice when a few heads turned. He looked upset, torn as he rubbed his brow. "That's what makes it so hard. I can't … I shouldn't still love him this much. Not after all he did. I should hate him, for lying to me back then, and for all the suffering he's caused, but … I just wish I knew what he was thinking; what he's planning." Shaking his head in disbelief, Ray chuckled. "Man, why am I telling you all this? I've never spoken about Kai to anyone. Not even Mariah, or Lee, but here I am spilling my guts to you. I guess it's because you're the only one I've ever met who spoke to Kai while he was incarcerated."

"And why does that allow you to be so candid towards me?" Tala asked.

"It just feels like we have that much in common," Ray said, shrugging as he wiped his runny nose. "Sorry. I've got a bit of a cold, apparently. Mariah and Lee never went to university with us, and Lee and Kai never got along anyway. Most of my old classmates don't want anything to do with me, because of my relationship with Kai. Everyone just thinks of him as a psycho. Yes, he's … unstable, but they all seem to have forgotten that they used to think the world of him. At one time or the other, everyone who knew him thought Kai was great. Once he was arrested, however, he suddenly became this mindless monster in their eyes, and they couldn't believe that I could still have feelings for him."

Hesitating, Ray reached over and grabbed Tala's arm.

"But you saw it, didn't you? Kai isn't just a monster. It's like there are two sides to him: there's the killer, but there's also Kai himself. I'm not wrong to still love Kai's better side, am I? When talking to him, didn't you ever, for just a second, see his other side? His good side?"

" … _I will make you happy again … "_

"He isn't without some remnants of humanity," Tala admitted.

" … _I must admit that I have imagined ravaging you as well … "_

Tala cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked out at the pedestrians battling against the wind and rain.

"But he himself has embraced his other side. For all his charm, he knows full well what he's capable of, and has accepted it as his nature. I don't know if he finds joy in killing, but he's proven that he puts himself first."

"Not with _me_," Ray hissed, pupils slitting. "He gave himself up the first time, not because he was thinking about himself, but because he cared more for me. Tala, let me in on this manhunt. Use me as bait to draw Kai in. I could talk to him, convince him to go back into custody. He'd do it for me."

"You actually want him back behind bars?"

"If it was just him and me, no. If the two of us lived on our own on a little island, I'd take my chances and stay by his side, even if he threatened to kill me. But I have to think about others now. I don't want a repeat of what happened in the asylum. And I'm scared of losing him for good."

"How so?"

"With all the efforts that's being put into finding, there is a big chance the police will track him down. And if Kai resists, I know the police will not hesitate to use force—_lethal _force." Ray's eyes lost much of their intensity. He suddenly looked drained. "I can prevent that, I know I can. If you let me in on the operation, I could talk Kai into turning himself in again, and at least then no one will get hurt. Please, Tala, let me do this."

A long silence stretched between them. Tala could find nothing but honest intent on Ray's face.

"No," he said, nonetheless. "Sorry, Ray, but even if it were up to me to make such a decision, I'd still refuse to get you involved in this. And I know for a fact that the person running the show right now will also refuse you proposal, simply because he's dead-set on doing it his way. The police always favour blood-free results, but in this case I cannot gamble your safety in return for Hiwatari's. I just won't."

Sitting back with a frustrated sigh, Ray eventually nodded.

" … How's Wyatt doing?" he asked, trying to take their minds off Hiwatari.

"Not good," Tala said. "You heard about him on the news?"

"Yeah. Man, it's like everyone I know is dying all around me," Ray said. He took a half-hearted sip from his cup. "Well, I hadn't even thought about Wyatt for years. He didn't cross my mind until I mentioned him to you the other day, and now suddenly he's on his deathbed. Although, from what I heard, it sounds like he's been on his deathbed for an entire year." He grimaced. "I can't even imagine a sick enough picture of what that must have been like. And for what? Okay, so he dabbled in drugs, but he wasn't the only one. He was a good guy, really. I called him a 'groupie' and all, but he never meant anyone harm, so how could someone do that to him?"

The conversation paused as a waiter walked over carrying their lunch, which Tala had ordered beforehand, as well as two more cups of coffee. Placing their meals before them, the man left with their empty cups.

"So … now what?"

"Call this number," Tala said, sliding it over to him on a business card. "This call will be confidential, meaning you won't get the entire department breathing down your neck. Identify yourself, your past relationship with Kai, and explain what happened. Yes, you can tell them about the call and your suspicions. I have no doubt they'll accept your concerns and put your in the programme."

"But I can't leave Mariah on her own. She'd have to come with me. How can I explain all this to her?"

"You'd have to explain the move, but it'd be best for her if she didn't know the exact reason." Tala thought for a moment. "Tell her it's all my idea, that you go into the protection program. Say it's only a precautionary step. It might be too much for her, dealing with both the death of her brother and friend, and knowing that Hiwatari tried to contact you."

Ray nodded, tucking the paper into his wallet. Pulling his thick braid over a shoulder absently, he fingered the end, looking a bit apprehensive.

"Tala?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think that—if or when you catch him, that is, and if he's still alive … They may take him somewhere else far away, but if he's sent back to the same asylum, with heightened security … there'd be another director, seeing as the last one … Is there any chance that I could see him?"

"I can't make any such guarantees," Tala said. "Once he's back in an asylum, it will be up to that institute whether he's allowed any visitors. Usually, only direct family members are allowed to see inmates like him."

Ray scowled, poking at his meal with his chopsticks.

"The only living relative I know of is his grandfather Voltaire, who'd sooner give up one of his Bentleys than acknowledge that he still has a grandson."

"Did you ever meet this Voltaire?"

"Nope. I asked, but Kai refused to let me even speak to the man. Whereas Voltaire only started hating Kai after his arrest, Kai never liked his grandfather. I think—and this is just a thought—that it may have something to do with Kai's parents, but he never spoke about any of that with me."

"Did he ever give you a reason for that?" Tala asked, intrigued.

"Something about leaving the past buried. I think I once got close to the truth, but Kai never confirmed nor denied it. Whatever happened between him, his grandfather and his parents made him the way he is. Kai doesn't let people get close to him, but he's very protective of those he cares for. He was always worrying over me. Not in a creepy way, though. He'd ask me where I was going whenever I went out, but I could hear in his voice sometimes that he was worried, not jealous. It was like he was worried I'd walk out the door and never come back."

Ray folded his arms and stared at the speckled tabletop.

"That's what he's most afraid of, I think," he said, talking so softly Tala had to move closer to hear him. "Being alone. Or rather, knowing he's alone. He isn't a social person who loves having a crowd around him, but it's like … It's like he needs to know that, through it all, there's at least one other in his life. At least, that's sort of person he was when he went in. I don't know how five years of isolation has affected him."

A funny noise sounded from Ray's coat. Checking the screen of his phone, he groaned.

"What is it?" Tala asked.

"No, it's just Lee," Ray said. "He's coming home next week. Not that I don't want him here—we've been best friends since before either of us could walk—but from the text messages he's sent so far I know I'll be getting an earful when he gets here. He never liked Kai, and vice versa, mostly because Lee takes pride in being a villager at heart and thinks of the upper class as elitists. When he learned about Kai … He was sensitive about my feelings, but I could tell he happy that Kai was out of the picture."

"You gave me the impression last time that everyone loved Kai."

"Of course, there must have been a few who were jealous of him, but Kai never had any real enemies."

"Except Brooklyn Kingston, perhaps?"

Ray almost dropped his cup.

"How do you know about Brooklyn?" he asked, wiping the spilled coffee off his hand with a napkin.

"I don't know much about him."

"Why are you even looking through his records? What does Brooklyn have to do with anything?"

Tala raised a brow at the almost defensive shift in behaviour. Seeing this, Ray settled down.

"Sorry for that. I don't know why I sounded so ... protective of him, but ask around and you'll know I'm not the only one. Brooklyn's another great guy. Yeah, his records will claim otherwise, but before he became so obsessed with beating Kai, he was cool. You know, the type who could appreciate just laying on the grass on a sunny day, listening to birds sing. He was a real nature lover. He knew everything about animals, even ones most of us had never heard of before. Really gentle and friendly. Not 'friendly' in a 'I wanna make lots of friends', but he was so polite he'd never snub anyone who came to him. But soon enough Kai surpassed him in the perfect student category, as it were, and Brooklyn changed. When he threw Mr Yamaguchi's chair through the window the news spread like wildfire and everyone had the same reaction: 'Brooklyn did that? No way!' And when the murders started, everyone pointed the finger at the poor guy. I guess it became too much, first losing his prestige as top student, then the accusatory looks and whispers: he dropped out."

"But when Hiwatari was caught ... "

"Some expected Brooklyn to come back. With Kai gone, he'd have the university to himself once more, but he never returned."

"Where's he been all this time? Did you ever see him after he left?"

"Once. About three years ago," Ray said. "Everyone knows that he's living with his father up north. I tagged along with Kevin once on a business trip up there and while waiting for him in the car I saw Brooklyn across the street. He walked off before I could say anything. Even from a distance I could see a dark bruise here." He tapped his left cheek. "Guess his old man hasn't changed one bit ... "

"His father hit him?"

"Brooklyn's dad had him on a very short leash, which was why he worked so hard to be number one: to please his father. He wasn't allowed to live with other students in the dorm; his father bought him a lone apartment a few miles down the road. And even then, Brooklyn only stayed there during the week and always went home on the weekends and for the holidays. I mean, _always_. Every Friday, at four exact, a long black limo would pull up at the front and Brooklyn would get in."

"You ever met his father?"

"No, and I wouldn't want to. No one ever saw the man, in fact. We're curious, though, especially Tyson. He had us go all-out combat one Friday—Kai, naturally, refused to participate—and we hid up on the rooftops with binoculars, trying to catch a glimpse, but Brooklyn's dad never got out of the car and the windows were tinted. The whole thing was just creepy. And there's nothing anyone could do about it because Brooklyn was over 18 and he refused to file charges against his dad."

"Such treatment by a parent ... No wonder Kingston cracked the way he did."

"He really didn't deserve it," Ray said morosely. "If it weren't for his dad abusing him, he would have gotten very far in life. He would have had a life. And he did try, you know. He'd try to approach others, tried to reach out and make friends. He even participated in a couple of the beyblade tournaments Tyson often organized."

"Beyblade?"

Ray laughed, burying his face in his hand.

"Oh man, you had to be there. It was crazy. They hardly make them anymore, but beyblades were this high-tech spinning tops that were all the rage at the time. It's two players—'bladers'—standing over a special dish and launching the beyblades. Whoever knocks out their opponent's blade first, won. The beyblades were even advertised to posses so-called 'sacred spirits'. It was _so_ lame," he said, still chuckling. "But we had plenty of laughs, shouting orders to two inanimate tops spinning in a wok."

"I can imagine."

The door opened and in streamed a large group of men, laughing and shaking rainwater from their coats and hats. Tala checked his watch. It was just after five.

"Oh crap," Ray said, glancing at the time of his cell phone. "I'm supposed to be picking Mariah up from work soon. Sorry, Tala, but I have to go."

"That's alright. I should be heading out as well."

But Ray grabbed his arm before Tala could even rise from his seat.

" ... Did you ever get around to telling Kai what I said?"

Not knowing where to look, Tala nodded. Ray beamed.

"And ... ? Did he say anything?"

"Not really."

Ray's smile fell.

"Then again," Tala quickly went on to say, "that didn't surprise me. He _did_ react when I mentioned your name, but I knew he wouldn't show his vulnerable side to me at the time. He was always very guarded during my visits."

"Yeah ... That's true," Ray said to himself, cheering himself up. "Kai never liked to show any emotions around people he didn't know very well. Yeah, he was probably holding it all in because of you." Out of the blue, he hugged Tala. "Thank you. I really appreciate all you've done for me. If there's anything I can do in return ... "

"Promise me you'll call the number I gave you. Make sure you get yourself, and Mariah, to a safer place," Tala said. "And don't disappear: I'd like to hear from you, to know how you're doing, every now and then."

"Promise. It's for the best, and I'm sure you'll get Kai back, safely. And when that happens, I might be able to see him again, without having to worry that he can hurt anyone else."

"I will do my best, but I'm no miracle worker," Tala said as they made their way to the tilt to pay for their meals.

Ray nodded, but couldn't stop smiling.

Once outside, they remained under the shelter of the awning as they looked up and down the rainy street.

"My car's down that way," Ray said loudly over the wind, pointing to their right.

"Mine's right there," Tala said, pointing across the street.

"No fair! How did you get such a good spot?"

"The pay might not be great, but there are advantages to working for the police," Tala said and dodged a light-hearted jab to the shoulder. "If you'd faked a limp you might have gotten away with parking in the handicap zone."

"You're a bad cop," Ray laughed, and this time managed to shove Tala out into the rain before jogging off in the direction of his own car, keeping beneath the awnings of shops to stay as dry as possible. He disappeared around the block.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	13. January 18 IV

**Title:** Sinners

**Authoress:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Tuesday, January 18**__**th**__**, 2004. **_

_**Time: 20.05**_

"I wasn't expecting company when I left this morning, so I didn't have time to clean up," Bryan warned, leading the way up the narrow garden path to the dark house that was not unlike the others on the street. "I'm a lousy house keeper."

Tala gave him a brief yet sceptical smile.

"No need to tell _me_ that: I was one who had to pick up after you."

"Hey, I've cleaned up my act," Bryan said as they reached the front door. "I even ordered take-out for us."

"Sorry, but I ate a late lunch with Ray." Bryan unlocked the door, but stepped aside to let Tala through first. "Thanks."

"Let me get the lights," Bryan brushed past him, flipping the switches near the door.

Despite Bryan's cautioning, the place didn't look half bad at all. It was small, but then again, Bryan lived here by himself and was hardly home for most of the day.

"We made it just in time," Bryan said, closing the door. Shaking a few stray drops from his hair, he nodded behind him. "It's starting to rain again."

"What difference would that make? We're both already soaked," Tala said, still looking around as he followed the other down the corridor. "This place really isn't as bad as you said it was. Knowing your track record when it comes to home keeping, I was expecting unpainted walls and clothes lying all over the place."

A loud buzz from the door made him jump, and Bryan laughed.

"That's probably just the delivery guy. I called from the station, but damn these guys are always on time." Bryan pointed ahead. "Kitchen's that way."

That the kitchen was organized and clean was not surprising: Bryan never cooked, and Tala doubted there was even a single pot or frying pan in the cupboards. There was, however, a sink full of dirty glasses, dishes and silverware. Standing over the pile, Tala sighed, rolled up his sleeves and began washing them. He was no perfectionist, but he was beginning to feel nervous and out of place in here.

He didn't know why he was here. Not that he wanted to go home yet, either. The memory of Hiwatari was still too fresh, and a small part of him feared that he'd walk through the door and find the fugitive in his kitchen again. He'd even left Wolborg with Yuka for the day, not daring to keep the dog locked in the apartment, though he'd checked and double-checked the locks on every window and door.

'So that's it?' he asked himself. 'That's how you're going to deal with this? Never go home? As if that will solve everything? How can you even be here, talking to Bryan, lying to him when he's trying to open up to you?'

Grabbing the sides of the sink, Tala felt like he was about to be sick all over the soapy dishes, but managed to swallow the feeling. His knees were shaking, though.

'I can't tell Bryan, or anyone else. I _can't_. I'm doing the right thing.'

"Come on, I didn't ask you over to do housekeeping," Bryan joked as he entered with the food.

"Ray told me more about Kingston," Tala said without having really intended to.

Bryan raised a brow at the random topic, but he went along with it. Putting the food down on the countertop nearby, he leaned back against the edge of the sink.

"Brooklyn Kingston? But Eddie pulled up those files on him for you. I thought you said that you were going to see Kon about Dox."

"I lied," Tala said, stacking the clean plates and sliding them to one side. "Ray called me concerning Hiwatari. He was confused as to what to do and needed someone to talk to. If McGregor knew the real reason behind our meeting he would have found some way to get involved and right now Ray needs someone he can trust."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Bryan sighed. He muttered something under his breath, then said, "So, what did Kon have to say about Brooklyn?"

"Mostly about the kind of man he used to be, and how he was a suspect during the wave of murders, and how everyone suspected that his father was an abusive parent."

"Sad case. We tried to persuade him to press charges, but Kingston was convinced that his father was only doing what was best for him. He's only ever been to the police twice. Once for interrogation regarding the murders, and before that to answer to assault charges that were later dropped."

"Assault? Who was the victim?"

Reaching past Tala to take a dishcloth hanging on the wall, Bryan started to dry the wet plates and glasses.

"His girlfriend. It was more of a shared charge: both he and she had traded a few minor blows. Both were charged with battery, but both acquitted the other and left together."

Tala frowned.

"Ray didn't mention anything about a girlfriend. He said Kingston had trouble forming relationships with others."

"Which showed in this relationship. It was an on-again, off-again type of romance that was never consummated, according to Kingston. She ended their relationship after just a few months." Bryan looked to Tala. "It was Hillary Tachibana."

The sponge Tala was holding landed with a squish back into the sink.

"Who was the last person who saw her alive?" he asked, already guessing the answer.

"Kingston. She went to see him one morning, told him they were through, walked out the door, and disappeared. We periodically update her profile on several missing person's website, but no one has seen or heard from her. It's like she just … ceased to exist, in every way. Her parents died in a car crash a year later. Right now, the only 'Hilary Tachibana' left behind are her files in the archives."

"She has become another nameless face whose files is taking up far too much space in the department's archives," Tala muttered, slowing in his actions.

"We've always been able to find something. A body, or part of it; clothing; jewellery; something belonging to the victim. Tachibana's case is a first. It would take a lot of cunning to dispose of her that easily, which is why much suspicion fell on Hiwatari. It was the sort of thing he could pull off."

Tala swayed slightly on his feet.

'Shut up! Not a word. If you tell ... '

"Look at the stunt he pulled off," Bryan went on, drying the same glass for a long time, too deep in thought to notice his excessive action. "It's as if he's also vanished from the face of the Earth, just like Hillary did. If he'd gone and killed himself, then I wouldn't mind, but that's not Hiwatari's style. He escaped for a reason, and an urgent one at that, judging by how sudden it all happened."

" _... I probably would have stayed put until I was too old and frail to even move or remember my own name ... But then, you came along ... "_

"Tala? What is it?" Bryan asked when Tala abandoned the dishes and marched out of the kitchen.

" _... I must admit that I have imagined ravaging you as well ... "_

Tala dropped down on the couch, pressing his fists against his brow, his chest heaving as he took deep breaths. He could taste the acidy taste of sick rising at the back of his throat.

" _... I needed to ... to calm my urges ... every time I look at you ... "_

Outside the rain was pouring, loudly thundering on the windows and roof. Thunder rolled in long after the lightning lit up the sky. The couch dipped next to him as Bryan carefully sat down.

"You're shaking like a leaf!" he said, putting a hand on Tala's shoulder, only to be shrugged off.

"Don't .. "

"What happened? Who did this?" Bryan asked. Impatient with worry, he took hold of both shoulders and made Tala face him. "Was it something Boris did, after all? Did McGregor say or do something this afternoon? Or did Kon have some news he's been hiding from us? Tala, tell me before I go crazy here."

" _..._ _Raise the alarm, and you better make sure to inform the proper authorities to get a few body bags ready ... I am not playing now, officer ... "_

"Tala? Tala?!"

" … _Still pacing that cage, officer ... Still looking for the exit ... It never once occurred to you that perhaps there is no door ... There is no easy exit ... "_

"There's no way out … " Tala said softly, staring down with a lost expression. "There's no way out for me."

"Out of what? What have you gotten yourself into?" Bryan asked, slightly calmer now that Tala had spoken.

" … I don't know. But … I'm scared … "

"Why? Because you think you're in over your head? Because you think you're in it on your own? It doesn't have to be that way. I—"

"No. This is the way it has to be," Tala said. Pushing himself up, he shook his head. "It's not you … It's got nothing to do with you. I shouldn't be here."

"I'm not letting you go out there in this state," Bryan said, also standing and grabbing Tala by the arm.

"You don't have to protect me, Bryan," Tala said, trying to pry the fingers from around his bicep. "I don't need you to take care of me. I managed on my own, without you, for years."

The hand fell away.

"So that's it?" Bryan stared at him, hurt. "This_ is_ because of me."

"For once, it isn't."

"Wait. What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Maybe he wanted an excuse to argue. Maybe he needed to let it all out. Maybe he was still hurting over their breakup. Maybe all of this was the fault of what had happened between them years ago. Maybe he was just looking for a fight. Whatever the reason, Tala responded to the offended question with equal frigidness.

"What, are you saying that I was always selfish?" Bryan asked, noticing the determined look on Tala's face and ready with a defence of his own. "You think I never considered your feelings? We were together for six years, Tala. I was your first, and I was devoted to you! I did everything I could to save our relationship!"

"We wouldn't have needed saving if _you_ hadn't wrecked it in the first place!" Tala shot back.

Bryan didn't retort. He shifted, knowing that he couldn't argue with that all-important point. They were both silent for a long time, listening to each other's breathing and the rain against the window.

"Was it me, Bryan?" Tala asked, leaning against the TV cabinet.

"Of course not. Whenever I thought of you, I couldn't think of anyone else. But I wasn't ... thinking that one time. _One_ time, Tala." Bryan ran both hands over his head, ruffling his short hair. "That was the only time I didn't put you first. That was the only time I ever made a mistake like that. I didn't even know the guy. He didn't mattered."

"Oh no? Then, if he really was nothing but a mistake, why didn't you tell me about him?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt you."

Tala had heard that one a hundred times.

"How could you even _think_ that keeping it a secret would protect me?"

"I was drunk!"

"And I was waiting on you! Waiting on you to celebrate our sixth anniversary!" Tala made a helpless gesture with his hand, suddenly feeling too weak to be as angry as he should have been. When he went on, his voice sounded defeated, broken as he remembered the feeling. "You said you were just going out for an hour with some friends. 'I'll be back in an hour. Meet me at the restaurant.' And I sat there, Bryan, for three hours, waiting on you. I spent what should have been our special night alone in bed. You didn't come home until late morning the next day, and you told me that your friends had played a prank on you while you'd been drunk; that they'd driven you to another city and ditched you to find your own way back without your phone or wallet. You apologized and swore to me that you could only think of me during the whole ordeal ... and I believed you. I even felt sorry for you and told you it was all right."

"And things were alright. We were happy together! Everything was perfect. I didn't want to ruin that over something so stupid. I'd never do something like that again, so why mention it at all?"

Tala looked at his ex-lover in disbelief.

"Why mention it at all? You seriously thought you could keep something like this a secret? Bryan, for fuck's sake, you were in a club! While I was sitting like a loser in the restaurant, you were dancing with that guy in full view of everyone else! You both disappeared into the restroom and didn't come back out until almost half an hour later, half dressed! And then, you left together! How the hell did you think people wouldn't talk?"

Feeling lightheaded and drained, he fell back on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. His shoulders were shaking, quivering with suppressed anger and heartbreak. It had hurt so badly; it still did.

"People _talk_, Bryan. They especially love to talk about others, and especially when it was about something like this. I was the laughingstock of the neighbourhood ... and you just let it be. So-called friends and even strangers would look at me when I walked by, and they'd smirk and whisper. Word had spread and everyone knew that you'd screwed another guy, and I was the butt of the jokes. I was the stupid boyfriend who didn't know."

For the first time since the argument began, Tala felt tears seeping out of the corner of his eyes. Bryan was staring at an invisible spot on the floor, his own eyes glistening with shamed tears.

"And you just let them …" Tala said, practically whispering as he stared at Bryan, feeling completely disconnected from the other all over again. "As long as no one told me, you were fine with it. I asked you, a couple of times, whether you knew what was going on, and both times you swore that you didn't know. You said you loved me, and it didn't matter what other people thought of me. You ... You actually turned it all around and made it seem as though_ I_ had done something wrong. And I believed so too, eventually. I never suspected ... You acted like nothing was wrong. You went out with me, as always. You talked with me. You fucked me—"

"Tala—"

"—as if nothing had happened. You played me for a fool, Bryan! You just strung me along while the rest of the world grinned, shook their head and gossiped. If you truly loved me, then how could you have been so selfish? How?!"

Bryan buried his hands in his pockets, leaving the question unanswered.

"Do you know what it felt like, Bryan, when I finally confronted our friends and demanded they tell me what was going on. Can you imagine, even just a little, the humiliation of having to stand there, listening all those eyewitness accounts of you and that guy practically tearing each other's clothes off in front of everyone?" Tala paused, looking up at the ceiling with wet eyes as he bit the inside of his cheek. "You should have seen the looks on their faces. They were trying so hard not to laugh, grinning as subtle as possible as they each told me just how 'devoted' my boyfriend was, and how stupid I was for not knowing any better."

The storm was still going strong ,with no intention of letting up anytime soon. The winds howled down the street, rattling mailboxes and tree branches. Above them rose the distant sound of a siren. Bright flashes danced about outside as booming claps of thunder pounding their eardrums.

"I believe you when you say that it was a one night stand. If you'd come clean to me the minute you'd walked through that door, I would have been angry, but I would have believed that it had been a mistake. But what you did afterwards ... That was no mistake, Bryan. You kept up that lie for three weeks. If you cared so much about me, you would have never let the whole flaming town gossip about me behind my back. You lied to me, Bryan. You kept lying right to my face and went on living your life while mine was falling apart around me. You lied only to make things easier for yourself, and you didn't care how it affected others."

Walking over, Bryan slowly lowered himself on the sofa. Side by side, they felt miles apart.

"How did you do it?" Tala asked. "How could you do that to me, if you loved me?"

"I never meant for any of it to happen. Once I started lying … I didn't have the balls to tell the truth. I tried to stifle the gossip, tried to protect you, but it had gone on for too long. And I have suffered because of that for all these years."

Tala sneered, eyes narrowing.

"Don't talk to _me_ about suffering."

"This didn't only affect you, Tala. You think I was happy about our breakup? When you came home, after learning the truth, the look on your face ... and I knew I'd done that to you. I couldn't face myself, let alone you."

Standing, Tala walked to the doorway, looking through it at the opposite wall in the hall.

"So that's when you decided to get up and leave? You just packed up your things and moved here, to Japan, and left me to face the gossip and shame on my own. Again, you were only thinking about yourself, weren't you? After all of that, you think you can just snap your fingers and all's forgotten? You think that just being around me, stealing touches and kisses, you'd make everything better?"

" ... Is that a bad thing, trying to make things right?" Tala felt the other stand close behind him and a hand tentatively placed itself on his shoulder. "Is trying my hardest to take away the pain I caused you selfish?"

"It's no longer about selfishness. It's about trust. I trust you as a friend. I trust you as a superior. But I cannot trust you as a lover, Bryan. I can't give away that part of me to you again, because I'm too afraid of what would happen if you misused my trust a second time."

He didn't wait for Bryan to fill in the silence this time. He walked out, towards the front door. He pulled on his coat, grabbed his bag, and was just reaching for the door knob when, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Tala ... "

Tala looked back, straight into Bryan's eyes. He just felt ... tired. Weary of the confusion and emotions.

"I'm not strong enough to survive another heartbreak. That might sound selfish, but you understand what that's like, don't you, Bryan?"

The large raindrops pelted down upon him as he stepped outside. Numbly descending the few steps, he wasn't thinking about the rain, or that he'd have to catch a bus to get home. His steps felt meaningless. No matter where he'd go, nothing would change.

" _... You're trapped ... a wild wolf in a cage, and no matter how many times you pace those bars, there is no way to escape ... "_

'Why?' he asked the voice mocking him. 'Why not? How did I come to be in this cage in the first place? Why can't I be free?'

Before even reaching the sidewalk, he stopped, staring down into shallow puddles at his feet.

'Why can't I be set free? Who gets to decide that? If not me, then who ... ?'

" _... I will make you happy again ... "_

'No! Not you, Hiwatari. Anyone but you.'

Arms wrapped around him from behind, gently pulling him back towards the house, out of the unforgiving rain. Once the door closed behind them, Tala leaned back against it, rainwater dripping from his hair and clothes.

"It's not about me."

Tala said nothing so Bryan cupped his face and repeated the line.

"Then what's it all about?" Tala asked.

"You. From now on, it's all about you. I hurt you because I was only thinking about myself when, in that situation, you were the only thing that should have mattered. I did the crime, and left you to suffer because I thought it was the best for us. I _was _selfish. Not because I put you through that just to keep you, but because I never stopped to consider what would be in your best interest. You were right. If I had confessed from the beginning, it would have been ugly, but it would have been fair to you, to know the facts and make your own decision. By trying to keep it from you, I was not only lying, but also taking that choice away from you, assuming I knew what was best for us."

Tala looked away, but Bryan rested his head against his.

"I lost your trust as lover," Bryan said. "I can never undo what I've done to you. I cannot take away the pain. And you will never forget it. You're right. I can't just push my way back into your life and pick up where we left off."

"Then why are we both here, talking about this?"

"Do you love me?"

" ... "

"_I_ love you. And now that I know how precious you are to me, I swear to you—I _swear_ it, Tala, that I will not hurt you like that ever again."

"Bryan—"

"I can't turn back time, and I can't see into the future, but whatever happens, I want to be there for you, like I should have been from the start. I don't want you to be alone anymore. I don't want to see you this unhappy ... Do you love me, Tala?"

"If I didn't, it wouldn't hurt so much."

Wiping his teary eyes with the wet sleeves of his coat, Tala turned his head to face Bryan. The tips of their noses touched.

'Trapped ... I can't get out ... or am I just too afraid?' he wondered, running his knuckles down Bryan's arm where it was lightly wrapped about his waist.

" _... __Still pacing ... Still looking for the exit ... perhaps there is no door ... there is no easy exit__ ... __You cannot have freedom and security ..."_

'One or the other,' Tala thought, watching Bryan slowly leaning in. 'One or the other ... is still better than having nothing at all.'

Their lips touched, harder and harder. The kisses were still tender but it wasn't long before he felt Bryan's tongue tentatively nudge his lips, asking for permission.

'And even if I can't have either, it doesn't mean I have to be alone ... I may be caged, but not blindfolded ... I can see through the bars ... I can reach through them, and touch ... '

Running a hand up Bryan's neck, he cupped the back of the head. Slipping off Tala's coat, Bryan's hands had found their way under his shirt. Tala hissed.

"Your hands are cold," he said when Bryan froze.

"In that case ... "

Trailing kisses down Tala's neck, Bryan slowly lowered himself onto his knees and replaced his cold fingers with warm lips, lightly kissing Tala's quivering stomach. When the kiss began to trail lower and lower Tala grabbed the other's shoulders to keep himself upright. He ran his fingers through the damp hair, encouraging Bryan with ragged gasps and small sounds. When Bryan finally reached his destination, Tala couldn't stop his hips from jerking.

"Not here," Tala said, trying to pull Bryan to his feet. "After all this time, not here ... We've gotta ... do it properly ... upstairs ... "

"Soon, but not yet," Bryan whispered back, spinning Tala around. "I know you. You can't wait that long."

Bracing himself on his elbows against the door, Tala arched his back as his pants were undone and a hand slipped inside. He felt Bryan's chin on his shoulder and turned his head to be rewarded with a stormy kiss that almost undid him before the hand could. Bryan's once cold hand now burned against his sensitive skin while the other hugged their bodies firmly close.

"What ... about ... you?" Tala asked, unable to speak more than one word at a time without taking deep gasps of breath. He could feel Bryan's own arousal through the seat of his pants, but Bryan silenced his mumbling with a long kiss.

"You first," Bryan said as they broke apart for air.

Tala moaned, dropping his head against his folded arms, wishing he had a pillow to scream in. His body felt as though it was awakening for the first time in years. Bryan knew him, his body. Bryan knew every inch of his flesh, and how to manipulate it. Almost like a routine, but never dull, the hands did their work, teasing and caressing. Arching his back, Tala anticipated the fingers dipping their way between his cheeks, and when they did he let out a strangled cry, shuddering violently.

He would have slumped to the floor were it not for Bryan keeping him upright, running a sticky hand over his stomach.

"You're not finished," Bryan whispered with a small chuckle. "I know there's more where that came from."

"So ... I'm a ... bit out ... of ... practice ..." Tala said, wiping his sweaty brow on his arms, chest heaving. He wanted to say more, but his mind was still too scrambled from his orgasm. Light-headed, he gained his balance. "I ... Fuck ... "

"Upstairs?" Bryan asked, nibbling at his ear.

"Upstairs," Tala agreed.

It wasn't a graceful ascent up the stairs, but both were too involved with each other to care for the occasional stumble and bumps. Bryan did most of the walking, but Tala could tell he was rapidly losing his control as the groping became harder and the kisses more penetrating.

Tala wasn't even aware they were in the bedroom until Bryan kicked the door shut. Allowing himself to be led backwards towards the bed, Tala nibbled on the fuller, lower lip until

the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed. Bryan gave him a light shove, leaving him to land on the mattress with a bounce. The sudden loss of body heat made him shiver and he quickly sat up, but Bryan was right there, kneeling over him.

"Don't get the bed wet," Bryan said as he began to peel off Tala's damp clothes. He gave Tala a teasing look. "_Yet_."

Tala wanted to retort, but preferred to be silenced by another searing kiss while they both disrobed each other. Bryan had almost removed all of Tala's clothes but was too overwhelmed with desire to resist pushing Tala back down to suck hard on the white neck, leaving dark marks before moving his way down the centre of Tala's chest and then straying to the hard nipples.

"I still owe you a special night," Bryan said huskily.

"You owe me many," Tala said. Though still recovering from his first climax, he was beginning to feel all flushed all over again. Grabbing Bryan's hand, he coached it downwards, between his thighs. "You owe me years, Bryan."

"I will make it up to you," was the determined promise and Tala's head fell back when he felt the hand stroke the bulge in his pants. "Till Death do us part, I won't leave you."

At the irresistible touch of the hand fondling him through the fabric, Tala raised his hips. Little time was wasted and his heated flesh was soon kissed by the warm air of the bedroom as his pants and underwear were yanked off. Fully naked, he lay with an arm flung over his eyes, concentrating only on touch.

The sensation stopped, making his groan in protest.

"Tala, look at me."

Opening his eyes, he found Bryan sitting back on his heels, studying him from head to toe and back again many times. At first Tala felt vulnerable, and self-conscious, but seeing the familiar passion he hadn't seen for so long in Bryan's eyes, he was emboldened and arched his back seductively, teasing Bryan to continue.

"Fuck Death" Bryan breathed out, planting himself over the Tala, devouring the open mouth with needful kisses and licks. "I'd sooner kill that bastard then lose you again."

Hooking a leg around the waist above him, Tala groaned when Bryan's hips thrust hard against his. It was unbearable, almost painful, as he was still tender from the first time.

"B-Bryan … " he panted, blinking through his own sweat.

Lips silenced him, sucking his tongue into a hot mouth. Unable to speak, he continued to grind himself against the body above him, nails drawing red lines across the broad back before digging deep into the skin when Bryan moved lower, mouth tickling the line of fine hair on Tala's lower stomach.

Throwing the arm back over his eyes, Tala didn't have to wait long before a wet mouth engulfed him, sending rolling waves of delicious ecstasy from his groin through his entire body, making his toes curl and his fingers tug at the bedspread.

"Ah!" he cried out, his hips trying to buck but they were being held down by strong hands as thumbs ran back and forth over the ticklish area just below his hip bones, making him squirm.

Grabbing the sheets with both hands, Tala clenched his eyes and pulled up his knees, cradling Bryan's head between his thighs.

"Not so hard," he said, loosening the sheets to tug furtively at Bryan's hair when the other only intensified the pressure. "Ah! Bryan, I can't ... can't take it ... Shit! Stop ... not so ... "

He heard (and felt) Bryan's muffled laugh, but the skilled mouth only doubled its administration. He felt himself sink even deeper, all the way to the back, and that tongue ... Up and down, up and down and around. Slowly, his spent body began mustering up the strength for another explosive climax. His abs contracted, burning as he neared his peak.

"Don't stop!" he begged, as his entire body began to shake. "Oh God, don't stop!"

Two fingers pressed against his lips. He obligingly opened his mouth, taking in the digits and running his tongue over them, mimicking Bryan's rhythm. By now tears were beginning to leak from his clenched eyes; he could not hold on for much longer.

Feeling the straining tension in Tala's body, Bryan gave one final bone-tingling lick before pulling away. Nipping at a flawless inner thigh, he nuzzled the flushed skin.

"Tala, let me ... "

Releasing the fingers, Tala groaned, sliding a hand down his body to finish what Bryan had started. But the other grabbed his wrist.

"Let me, please."

Hearing Bryan's voice, so hoarse with want, Tala lay back down, spreading his legs even further.

"Hurry," he begged.

Bryan removed his pants and underwear in one swift movement, kicking them off. Leaning on one arm over Tala, he coated two fingers of his fingers with his own saliva before settling himself back between the legs.

"Ease up," he whispered into Tala's ear.

"I'm not used ... It's been so long ... " Tala said, trying to remember what calm was as he felt the fingers probing. "I don't think I can ... "

"Trust me, Tala."

Opening his eyes, Tala looked up into Bryan's face. This was Bryan. The one person who would never intentionally hurt him. Make mistakes, yes, but purposefully hurt him, never.

"Promise me you won't hurt me, Bryan?" he said, relaxing his muscles as best he could.

"I swear it. Never again, Tala."

Releasing a long breath, Tala's breath still hitched when the fingers finally pushed their way in. Throughout the entire preparation, neither spoke as Bryan focussed on the task as gently as possible while Tala tried to get used to the intruding sensation all over again. He felt a bit relieved when the fingers finally withdrew, but at the same time empty.

A hand grabbed his, lacing their fingers together.

"Do you trust me, Tala?" Bryan asked, kissing him softly.

"Promise me ... "

"I promise you. I _swear_ it."

Gripping the hand, Tala wrapped his legs across Bryan's back.

"Then I trust you, Bryan."

The penetration came hard, making him yelp despite himself though his legs clenched around the slick hips, urging the other to continue when Bryan faltered. Their joined hands rested on the bed beside his head, tightening with every thrust until neither could feel their fingers anymore. Tala's free hand clutched at the bare forearm, raking angry red lines across the pale skin. Rocking beneath the other, he threw his head back, mouth open but unable to spare so much as a gasp.

The pace quickened.

Letting of Tala's hand, Bryan grabbed the back of his thighs, pushing them back, impaling himself deeper and deeper. When Tala responded with equal enthusiasm all tenderness and caution was tossed aside as Bryan's began thrusting faster, teeth clenched and eyes locked on Tala's.

Despite wanting this feeling to last forever, Tala did not have the endurance to hold back. Finally finding his voice, he came with a loud cry, even more violent than the first time as his body bucked and his fingernails ripped at the sheets. His entire body went tense, trapping Bryan who, after a few more deep, laboured strokes, grunted, eyes rolling back even as he continued to rock against Tala, riding out every last drop.

Slowly, the rest of the world caught up with them. The storm outside had intensified as lightning cracked and flashed with such frequency each thunderclap almost cancelled out the other. The rain was pounding on the rooftops, against the windows. All that noise outside, while within there was only heavy breathing.

Bryan was the first to recover. Sitting up, he disentangled the legs over his shoulder, but instead they clamped onto his hips, preventing him from pulling away just yet. Bryan lowered himself onto the sticky stomach and rested his head over Tala's pounding heart.

Tala felt as if he would never be able to breathe normal again. Taking in large amounts of air with each deep breath, he doubted he would ever be able to move again, either. Or rather, that he'd ever _want _to move again. Swallowing despite a sore throat, he nuzzled back into the sweaty pillow, a small smile on his face.

Minutes—or maybe hours for all they knew—passed before Bryan moved again, finally pulling out with a deep kiss. Bryan's hand trembled as it gently tucked several wild strands of red hair behind Tala's ear before running his knuckles down Tala's face, stopping below the chin to tilt the other's head up.

"Do you want to stay here?"

"Like I'd be able to get home at this hour, and in this state," Tala sighed, still refusing to move even a finger.

Bryan nipped him on the chin.

"Do you want to move in with me, for the remainder of your stay?" he clarified.

Tala blinked. After what they'd just done, it wasn't a preposterous question, but he hadn't been expecting it.

"What would the others think?" he asked. "Your my boss."

"Nothing, if you don't want to tell them," Bryan said. "Everyone's so busy, no one has time to scrutinize our living arrangements. And_ if_ they ask, we can say that it's purely for convenience sake. No one knows about us, other than that we're old friends, so no one will suspect any differently. Well, Parker seems to have figured something out ... "

"Michael wouldn't tell on us."

"Is that a yes, then?"

" ... You'd have to take Wolborg on walks once in a while."

"As long as I can count on you to warm me up afterwards, that's not much of a turn-off."

Rolling over onto his stomach, Tala purred as Bryan began to rub his aching shoulders and back.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked, hiding a smile when the question earned him a pinch on the rear.

"I guess you didn't figure that out the first time," Bryan said, lowering himself back down. Tala felt the not-so-subtle poke between his thighs. "Looks like I'm going to have to repeat myself."

Tala groaned as he was pulled up onto his knees.

"Bryan, I swear, if I cannot sit tomorrow ... "

"That's because you're out of shape," was the confident reply from behind. "You need some practice."

Tala couldn't contain his laugh and buried his face in the pillow.

Outside, virtually unnoticed by the reunited lovers, the storm continued to pound the pavement of the streets and the walls and windows of the houses as wet, icy winds howled through every nook and cranny while the lightning flashed over and over again.

Both men also failed to notice that a particularly lightning strike that struck a nearby building, giving off a particularly bright flash that illuminated everything outside, including the dark form standing on the small balcony just outside the bedroom, looking in. It wasn't clear how long the other had been there, but for a split second the lightning strike reflected in the blood red eyes that stared out from behind dripping slate bangs, locking on one of the two lovers with dangerous intensity.

Then another flash of lightning, and the balcony was once again deserted.

Tbc …

* * *

**A/N:** This was tricky to write. I'm comfortable with writing intense NC-17 scenes, but seeing as this site bans such content I had to negotiate with myself to keep the material R-rated.

And yes, I know I was cruel to write that last paragraph.

Read & Review, please.


	14. January 19

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Wednesday, January 19**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 13.09**_

"Oh, Tala! How have you been? You never came home last night." Yuka asked, smiling up at him with sleepy eyes.

"I was at a friend's," Tala said, looking away from the team of men carrying up boxes and furniture just two doors down.

"A new family have just moved in," Yuka said, motioning towards the movers. "Europeans, I think. A father and mother and three children, all of whom seem nice and polite. Do you think I should invited them over for tea sometime?"

"If they are foreigners they'll probably want to make some new friends quick," Tala said.

"Where were you yesterday, you said? A friend? That storm was terrible yesterday. It was very gracious of your friend to let you stay the night, instead of sending you out in such weather. Make sure to thank them," Yuka said, beckoning Tala inside. "Heaven knows youngsters these days just take whatever they're offered, and give nothing back."

Coughing to hide his stutter, Tala blushed as he left the suitcase at the door. He was ambushed just a few feet further into the hall, though, by a monstrous, furry hound that pinned him to the wall as the long tongue excitedly licked his face.

"He missed you," Yuka said, giving Wolborg an amiable pat on his back.

"I'll repay you for all this," Tala offered as Wolborg and he followed Yuka into the living room.

"Don't be silly! I have money enough, and nothing else to spend it on. You still have a long life ahead of you, so save your money for then. Tea, dear?"

Tala nodded as he knelt down at the low table, which he had to do _very_ slowly.

'I'll get you back for this, Bryan,' he glowered, glad that Yuka had her back turned to him while she prepared the tea. Sitting gingerly on his heels, he could still picture Bryan's unjustly proud look when he had had to help him out of the bed that morning.

Waking up against a strong chest, with comforting arms holding him close, had been nothing short of pure bliss. Opening his eyes to see the relaxed face of his lover mere inches away had stopped time in its place. Feeling their naked bodies so intimately close, wrapped so tightly in the sheets and each other's limbs had effectively made him not care a damn about anything else. That moment had to have been the most wonderful moment in recent memory. No, in as long as he could remember.

And then, reality set in.

He had argued with Bryan—shouted at him—about love and trust the night before. Bryan had thrown away his pride and begged him to take him back. Bryan had sworn to rebuild the trust between them, and that he'd never keep anything from Tala ever again. It had been a new start to a clean, secret-free relationship.

But Tala was lying. He was withholding what could possibly be one of the most important piece of information from everyone, including the person he had accused of being distrustful.

Hiwatari.

He should have enjoyed the sight of Bryan groggily opening one eye, then the other.

He should have enjoyed the quick but scintillating bath they'd shared before going downstairs.

He should have enjoyed their first breakfast together in years, simply basking in the afterglow of the night of passion, sharing wordless looks and meaningful touches across the table.

After all this time, he deserved that much. Some form of comfort and happiness in his life.

And now, he couldn't enjoy it. All because of one man's threat.

He tried telling himself that it had meant little, Hiwatari's unwelcomed visit. After all, the bluenette had left no incriminating evidence, nor dropped any hints that would lead them anywhere. His one and only purpose had been to get a message to Tala.

'Even if I told anyone,' Tala reasoned with himself, stroking the long fur on the back of Wolborg's neck, 'it wouldn't be of any help. I wouldn't be able to tell where Hiwatari went, or what he's planning to do.'

That didn't make him feel any better, but he knew he'd regret it a lot more if he went against Hiwatari's orders and came clean about the whole thing: Hiwatari didn't bluff. He'd retaliate, and Tala wouldn't be the one bearing the brunt. Not only would Tala have to deal with Bryan's disappointment, and scathing criticism from a certain highlander, but, even worse, he would be singlehandedly responsible for the deaths of who knew how many people.

" ... leaving?"

He blinked out of his morose thoughts when a steaming cup of tea was offered to him.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you leaving? Going somewhere?" Yuka repeated herself, making herself comfortable opposite him. "I couldn't help noticing that suitcase you have with you."

"You could say that my stay at my friend's a more ... long-term arrangement," Tala said, taking a sip of herbal tea without tasting it. "It's nothing permanent. And I'll make sure to come visit you. I'm actually worried about leaving you here, alone."

Yuka laughed.

"Worried about me? Dear, I've been on my own for decades. I know how to take care of myself, so don't waste time fretting over me. This is a safe neighbourhood, and not just anyone can enter this building. But I would appreciate a visit or two, when you have the time. This move, though, it's not about the ghost, is it?"

Thinking he'd first misheard, Tala tried to reinterpret the question, but couldn't.

"Ghost?" he asked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Yuka put down her cup.

"I didn't want to sound like a superstitious old bat, but when I returned with Wolborg to your apartment on Monday, I had the funny feeling of being watched. As if there was someone else in there."

Tala, who'd just taken another sip, almost bit the rim of his cup. Yuka noticed his alarm and giggled, unaware of the real reason behind his reaction.

"Oh, dear, I didn't take you for the superstitious type! Now I regret telling you this even more."

"N-No," Tala said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "It's actually interesting. Tell me ... So, what else did you ... feel while in there that night? Or did you actually see something ... or someone?"

"I'm convinced Wolborg sensed it too. My great-great-great-great grandmother was a self-proclaimed medium: I thought that, after all these years, and with me being so near the end of my life, untapped powers had finally awoken within me, so I went to investigate."

Tala's hand, resting on the side of his knee under the table, clutched at the material of his pants.

"And what did you find?" he asked, trying to merely intrigued.

"Nothing," Yuka said. She looked slightly put down. "Which was so very odd because, no matter where I looked, and no matter where I turned, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was always something behind me, watching me search. Funny enough, while I didn't go into your bedroom—that would have been rude of me—I was pretty sure that the source, the presence, was somewhere in that direction."

His bedroom ... He had not noticed anything out of place in there that night, nor this morning when he had arrived to pick up a few things, but if that was where Hiwatari had hid himself when Yuka had let herself in ...

"Thank you for the tea," he said, emptying his cup in one gulp and rising to his feet. "I'd better get going."

"Always rushing," Yuka said disapprovingly as she stacked up the saucers and cups, though she accompanied him and Wolborg to the door.

Just then, someone knocked. Checking through the peephole, Tala smiled and opened the door to find Bryan waiting outside. Bryan took a step forward, intending to share a quick kiss, but stopped himself when he realized Tala wasn't alone. Before he could greet Yuka, however, Wolborg rushed past Tala with an excited bark and almost bowled Bryan over.

"Geez, what have you been feeding him?" Bryan grunted, barely able to keep himself upright with Wolborg's large paws planted on his chest. "No offence, ma'am, but how do you manage this one on your own?"

"He knows my old bones can't handle too much strain," Yuka said. "He's such a good and smart dog."

"Yuka, this is Captain Bryan Balcov, my boss," Tala said. "He's also the friend I told you about. Bryan, this is Yuka Satomi, my hallway neighbour."

"It is very kind of you to let Tala stay with you for a while," Yuka said, returning Bryan's bow. "I once had a son so I know how young men such as yourselves value their personal space."

"Tala and I discussed it all last night," Bryan said, sharing a smile with Tala, who glared when he noticed that Bryan was still looking a bit smug. "But we've known each other for a while so there are no secrets between us, at present."

Tala smile fell and he dropped his gaze as he picked up his suitcase.

"I forgot a couple other things in my apartment," he said to Bryan. "It'll only take me a minute to get them."

"Need my help getting them?"

"No! I—I can managed myself. It's probably nothing, but I just want to make sure I've got everything. Could you take my suitcase and Wolborg downstairs? I'll be right there."

"Your car, or mine?" Bryan asked.

"Might as well my car. No, your car, because I'll need the keys to lock the door behind me. I'll drive behind you on the way back."

"A pleasure meeting you, ma'am," Bryan said to Yuka, grunting as he lifted the suitcase and whistled at Wolborg to follow. "See you downstairs, Tala."

The stream of movers considerably made a gap to let Bryan through. By the time Tala had said his proper goodbyes to Yuka, seven of the men had already hauled up a very large, very heavy wardrobe that almost took up the entire width of the hallway. Tala had to wait for them to manoeuvre it through the doorway. When that took to long he carefully squeezed his way past them, muttering an apology when his coat—which was slung over his arm—snagged the corner of the wardrobe. The closest man to hear him only grunted a response from beneath his red cap, too focussed on trying to get the wardrobe inside without crushing his colleagues.

Leaving the movers to figure it out, Tala reached his door and stared at the lock, deliberating whether he really wanted to go inside or not.

He'd been in there no more than fifteen minutes ago, but going back in, knowing what he now knew, was hard. There was no reason to believe that Hiwatari had left anything, but it had never occurred to him before that the man had been anywhere in Tala's apartment other than his kitchen and living room.

Entering his apartment, he left his coat on the couch and carefully made his way towards his room. He found nothing underway, and once in the bedroom nothing stood out as having been moved or otherwise tampered with. His bed was unmade, but only because he hadn't made it in the past four days. He hadn't even slept in it the night of Hiwatari's visit.

'What were you doing in here?' Tala wondered, tracing his hand across the walls in search of any hidden messages. 'You don't do anything without a purpose. You didn't come in here to hide from Yuka, did you? You pulled off an impressive vanishing act out on the balcony, so it's not like you to be caught off guard. You did something in here ... I'm sure you did.'

There came a loud THUD and CRASH from the hallway, followed by angry voices.

Minding his own business, Tala checked all his drawers, beneath and behind every piece of furniture. He unceremoniously empty his closet, searching the back and corners. He pushed away the rug and took the few paintings off the wall, all the while aware of the time: he didn't want Bryan to come back up here and find this mess and start asking questions. When he didn't even find anything new added in his computer files he sat back on his bed with a sigh.

'I'll have to come back here to continue searching another day, alone ... Frustrating ... Everything related to Hiwatari is frustrating ... '

Throwing himself back on the bed, he jumped right back up when something hard poked him in his shoulder. There was nothing among the sheets, but he had landed on a pillow. Tentatively reaching into the pillowcase, Tala's heart jumped when he felt something solid and rectangular within.

Hiwatari _had_ left something. It was an unlabelled VHS cassette with a note attached to it:

_**One down, two to go.**_

On the other was:

_**I will make you happy**_

Racing into the living room, Tala popped in the tape and turned on the TV.

Onscreen it was all black and white, and there was no sound, but Tala recognized the room. It was Boris' office, as seen from a camera right behind the late director's desk.

But Boris was still alive here, and he wasn't alone.

Tala stared with wide, scared eyes as Boris suddenly grabbed him and slammed him down on the desk. Skin crawling, Tala watched himself struggling onscreen, remembering every thought that had gone through his head at the time. After several excruciating minutes, he seemed to go limp.

And then the video did a strange thing: it froze. Right at the moment he stopped resisting Boris' attempts, the image froze. Tala waited for it to continue—though he didn't really want to see the rest—but the screen suddenly went all snowy.

Just as Tala was about to take out the tape, the image suddenly changed to one that made him leap back and turn away, gagging. His hand over his mouth, he slowly looked back to the gruesome sight of a blood-drenched Boris Balcov, naked and bound in his large leather chair, staring with unspeakable fear right into the camera, which had removed from the wall and positioned at a much closer distance (on the desk itself).

Boris was alive. His sliced chest was heaving painfully. His lacerated knuckles were gripping the armrests, but he didn't seem capable of moving them much. All the captured man could do was stare with desperate eyes, which flicked from the camera to something beyond its frame.

A shadow moved and Boris jerked, futilely trying to flee as someone calmly came to stand next to the chair.

'Hiwatari ... ' Tala thought.

Hiwatari looked different. He was in complete control, as usual, but there was a light in his eyes that was inhuman as he emotionlessly stared down at Boris.

With teasing gentleness, Hiwatari turned the chair to face him, allowing a clear profile of both himself and Boris, and used a finger to raise Boris' chin. Boris' mouth was moving, trying to say something, but stilled when Hiwatari brought their faces closer, as though to kiss.

"No!" Tala cried uselessly when Hiwatari suddenly pulled back, seemed to say something mocking, and rammed the scalpel in Boris' right eye. The man's body—still pumped with muscle relaxants—could only twitch helplessly as blood gushed down his face.

And Hiwatari just watched, leaning against the desk with his head to one side, face splattered with the blood of eleven other people. He stood by and watched as Boris' head finally fell to one side and the fingers that had dug themselves into the cushioned armrests relaxed entirely. When it was all over, Hiwatari turned to the camera for the first time, and it was as if the man was in the room with Tala. Their eyes locked, and Hiwatari nodded at the camera.

The screen went snowy.

Taking the tape out, Tala stood there for a very long time. He turned his attention back to the note. The second line he understood well enough, but the first ...

"'One down, two to go'. If ... If Boris was the first, who are the other two?"

He needed time and space to think. He'd get back to Bryan, and slip away the first chance he got.

Grabbing his coat, he pushed the tape and note into the inner pocket, but the tape struck something else. Tala was surprised when he dug out a cell phone. It wasn't his because he'd forgotten it at Bryan's house that morning. His confusion only deepened as he studied the silvery device, which had a glittery sticker of a white wolf on it the cover. Flipping it open, he found a message on the screen.

_**Keep in touch**_

"Who the hell ... ?"

His question couldn't have been better timed as the phone suddenly rang, almost making him drop it. He answered it with a puzzled "Hello?"

"_Scared you, didn't it?"  
_

That voice…

"H-Hiwatari?"

"_I'd forgotten how proficient I could be. I was able to take care of business even faster than expected, so I thought it was time to check in on you."_

"But how … When did you … "

Tala ran out into the hall. Others tenants were standing in their doorways, watching the movers, who had gathered around the badly damaged wardrobe now lying on its front on the floor. The men were agitated, and some had removed their caps, but there wasn't a red cap in sight.

"What happened?" Tala said, speaking up with such urgent authority that the movers, annoyed as they were, and probably eager to rant anyway, answered at once.

"The new guy suddenly let go!" one man said. "He just dropped his side and walked off without a word!"

"_Tell Renji that he should calm down," _Hiwatari chuckled through the phone Tala still had pressed against his ear. _"I told him I had other plans for today. I could have saved myself the trouble of carrying up several boxes and just mail you the phone, but I wanted to make sure you got it."_

Impossible! He had brushed past Hiwatari in this very hall without noticing the man? He couldn't have missed that hair, or those tattoos! If that had really been Hiwatari then he had altered his appearance somehow. But still, for someone who had his face plastered all over the country, how good a master of disguise did Hiwatari have to be to get a job?

"_Get inside,"_ Hiwatari said, able to hear the angry voices behind Tala.

Returning to his apartment and closing the door behind him, Tala had a million things he wanted to say to Hiwatari, but he could only grip the phone, positive that the man's sleeves were far from empty.

"_I'm pleased, officer. You haven't told anyone about us. Not even your precious Captain."_

"I didn't," Tala hiss, "so you'd better kept up your half of the deal."

"_Deal? I don't recall there being a deal."_

"What's it going to take to stop you, Hiwatari? I'm going against everything I believe in, betraying everyone I know by not saying anything: what more can I do to ensure you don't spill more blood?"

"_I will decided that, in due time. Just remember to keep this phone with you always. And don't bother tracing the calls. However, if you wish to contact me then simply hit redial. I should have some information next time that I think you will find useful. Good luck."_

Hiwatari hung up.

* * *

_**Wednesday, January 19**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 18.09**_

"Wyatt Ishida's died last night," was the first thing Emily said when Tala entered her office. Michael was already there, tossing a stapler from hand to hand. "He went so quickly that by the time staff members realized he was in trouble it was too late to do anything."

Tala, unable to come up with a fitting response, said nothing and just sat down with a grave nod. He dropped his keys on the table, then his own mobile, and almost pulled out the silver one but quickly shoved it back in before Michael or Emily could see it.

"Don't know about Tala, but I already knew that," Michael said, giving Tala a funny look. "So why did you call me in here as well, Emily?"

"Ishida's autopsy report turned up something unusual," Emily said.

"Er ... A living mummy wasn't unusual in and of itself?"

"Honestly, Michael!" Emily frowned, but didn't point out his exact offence. "Ishida's condition was alarming enough, true, but even that can't explain why they found_ this_ in his stomach."

She placed a small bottle containing something oblong, shrivelled and black on the table for both men to see.

"Either that's a turd, or a cocoon," Michael said, staring over Tala's shoulder as Tala held up the bottle and shook it gently.

"It's a cocoon," Emily said. "We had it checked out by a lepidopterist and she identified it as an Acherontia Styx, a moth infamous for the skull-shaped pattern on their backs."

"Couldn't have been in there for long," Michael said, studying the specimen closer. "Stomach acids didn't even have a chance to eat away at it."

"True, but, then again, Ishida's stomach couldn't produce any acid."

"Still, this thing must have been placed there not long before we found him. This is new, for a Dox murder. Why Ishida, but not the first two? And why a moth? They have nothing to do with sins ... Right?"

Tala ignored the silence, turning the bottle in his hands over and over until someone called his name.

"Sorry?" he asked, distracted.

"You haven't said anything since you came in," Emily said.

"Sorry. I've been having trouble focussing lately," Tala said. Forcing himself to think only about the Dox case, he began to feel a nagging at the back of his mind the longer he held the bottled cocoon. "But, there's something about this thing ... "

"Ever saw one before?"

"No. Never even heard of it until now. It's something else ... " Having recovered his thread of thought, he began to follow it, talking himself through each step while the other two listened. "I've definitely know nothing about these things, but I can't help thinking that I've ... Not heard about them, exactly, but that they fit in somewhere. Which is strange, because this is the first of Dox's victims to have one of these in them ... Or is he?"

Something sparked in his head, but then dimmed again.

"Well, Gao sure didn't have a bug in him," Michael said. "We can't be so sure about Ginko, because his stomach wasn't examined during his autopsy, but why would Dox put a bug in his first and third victims, but not the second? And _why _a moth?"

"Eggs ... larvae or caterpillars ... pupae ... adults ... " Emily twirled her pen once around her index finger. "Moths and butterflies, and other insects, go through different stages; metamorphosis. Maybe that's what this is supposed to represent ... "

"Only, those bugs advance as they develop, whereas Ishida was degenerating day by day," Michael pointed out. "Maybe it was meant to be ironic."

"It still doesn't fit the pattern we've seen in these murders so far."

"This is crazy! First we've got bodies coming in; then we've got heads; and now bugs—"

"Heads." Tala interrupted them both and put down the bottle with a loud clink. "Tyson Granger's head!"

"Yeah, that's the one I'm talking about," Michael said. "You okay?"

At last, the silent void in his memory that had been nagging him spoke up, the voice as loud as clear as it had been over the cell phone.

" _... Granger ... he does embody something ... "_

"There's another moth in Tyson Granger's head," Tala said, earning stunned looks from Emily and Michael. "Kevin Ginko was not Dox's first victim: it was Tyson Granger."

"So says Hiwatari," Emily said.

"Who also happens to be the main suspect in that same murder," Michael added.

"No," Tala said, waving away their doubts. "No, there's a connection. Hiwatari told me, during my second visit that Granger 'embodied something'. I was concentrating on other things at the time, but what if Hiwatari had meant that literally?"

"All we have of Granger is his head. No stomach to put a bug," Michael said.

"In the throat then," Tala said. Daringly, he went on. "Granger's head had been in that basement for years, right where Hiwatari had left it. Hiwatari knew that there was something—a cocoon in there ... No, he didn't need to take the head out of the jar to know that. He probably already knew Dox's calling card by then."

"Hold on. So how many people are you supposing Dox killed back then?"

"Dox killed Granger ... Dox killed Granger," Tala rambled, brainstorming his way through facts and hints. " Hiwatari knows who Dox is ... and Hiwatari knew Granger ... _and _Hiwatari knew Wyatt Ishida ... and those are the only two of the four with moths in them ... "

"You make it sound as if Dox planted those things simply because the victims were in a way linked to Hiwatari."

"But Hiwatari also knew Kevin Ginko through Ray Kon," Emily interrupted. "And Gary Gao was friends with the last two, so Hiwatari would have known something about him as well. And yet, Gao had not moth forced into him."

"Okay, okay. Let's pretend that it's proven that Dox, not Hiwatari, killed Granger. What message was he trying to get across? He didn't even leave the body behind, just the head," Michael said. "Granger vanishes; Hiwatari, allegedly, finds his head in a jar and hides it away; and that's ... that? That's it? Doesn't sound like Dox. He likes to make grand statements, doesn't he?"

"Unless he had no choice this time," Tala said, although even he wondered whether he was reaching too far for this one. He voiced his thoughts anyway, just to get them out of his head. "What if he killed Granger, and perhaps others, in secret years ago because he didn't need to do it publicly to get Hiwatari's attention?"

" ... Huh?"

"Hiwatari was still a free man back then. It would have been easier for Dox to get his 'messages' to Hiwatari back then, but once Hiwatari was incarcerated subtleties like that could not reach him."

"So Dox decided to go public, just to make the news in the hopes that all the sensationalism reaches Hiwatari down in the dungeon?" Michael asked, sounding doubtful. "Not only is that a pretty farfetched idea, but it also doesn't answer why Dox did any of this. Why would he want to get Hiwatari's attention in the first place, at the cost of Hiwatari's friends? Did that make him Hiwatari's enemy, or some secretly obsessed admirer trying to clear the way to Hiwatari? And if that's the case, wouldn't it have made more sense for him to go after Ray Kon, Hiwatari's lover?"

"That would have probably gotten him killed," Emily said. "If he did know Hiwatari that well then he would have known better than to cross the line by targeting Kon."

"I'm sorry, but I still don't get why _moths_. Where did Dox get them? Sounds like a bad movie pitch for Revenge Of The Geeks."

Revenge ... Hiwatari ... bugs ... enemy ... rival ... bugs ... nature ...

"What did I say?" Michael asked Emily when Tala suddenly grabbed his mobile and quickly searched the logbook.

Finding the number, he hit the dial button and motioned to Michael, who was trying to ask him what the heck he was doing, to be silent. He didn't have to wait long before someone answered, though it wasn't the person he was after.

"_Hello?"_ a woman said on the other end.

"Ms Ginko, this is Officer Ivanov."

"_Oh yes ... "_ She sounded wary, perhaps expecting them to call her in for more questioning.

"It's alright. I just need to talk to Ray. This is his mobile, isn't it?"

"_It is. We're currently packing our things to move to the house the police have assigned to us. One moment please … Ray! Officer Ivanov is on the phone."_

Someone took the phone from her.

"_Tala? Sorry if you've been trying to call me. The place is such a mess at the moment; Mariah couldn't find her car keys this morning."_

"No, this is the first time I'm calling you for today. Ray, I need you to think really hard."

" … _Okay."_

"You told me that Brooklyn Kingston was a nature lover, right?"

"_He was, but that was years ago. When he started getting a bit ... mental he spent less time enjoying nature."_

"Was there any particular type of animal he seemed interested in?"

"_He was crazy about all of them._ _Used to talk to anything he found hopping, crawling, flying or swimming about. He had a parrot named Zeus, but would have had an entire menagerie in his dorm room if the university had allowed it. Parrots live for a long time, you know, or so Brooklyn claimed. He knew everything about animals."_

"Do you think he'd know about the Acherontia Styx?"

"_Whoa, hold on._ _An Abercrombian what?"_

"An Acherontia Styx. It's a moth."

Ray thought it over for a moment.

"_I have no idea about Brooklyn himself, but he once told the class that he wished he could be like a butterfly, and then retracted it because his father was a butterfly collector. We just thought he was high on pollen or something, and I wouldn't say that his remark were genuine. Brooklyn was known to say some strange things sometimes."_

"I see. Thank you."

"_Uh, no problem, I guess. Glad I could help you with ... whatever you're doing."_

"I'm going north tomorrow," Tala announced, snapping his mobile shut. "To talk to Brooklyn Kingston."

"Just like that? All you've got are theories," Emily said.

"Right now, that's all we've got to go on."

"I'll come with you," Michael said. "If you're going to see Kingston you'll most likely see his father, and that guy isn't easy to talk to. If he finds out you're not an official he'll have you thrown out by the hired help in no time."

"He's no big fan of yours either, Michael," Emily said. "Or of any member of the force."

"Face it, that man doesn't like anybody, period. All the more reason I can't let Tala go up there alone. We're gonna have to talk to the Captain first, though. Make sure he's cool with the idea. He's been a pretty bad mood lately so we don't want to piss him off any more."

"Actually, I saw him this morning and he seemed to be better spiritsd," Emily said.

"Well, let's consider that a miracle."

Tala wisely remained quiet on the subject,.

"Let me know whether you'll go or not," Emily said on her way out. "With you gone all day I'll have to get either Eddie or Steve fill in for you, Michael."

"I'll miss you too," Michael called after her. He picked up the bottled cocoon once more and wrinkled his nose. "Damn. I'm used to finding disgusting things, but a bug ... It's like a human incubator. Anyway, give me a moment, and we can go to the boss together."

Left alone in the office, Tala was already doubting his decision. A hunch, that was all he had to go on. How could he know with more certainty that he wasn't about to waste precious time?

His fingers closed around the silver mobile in his pocket.

Should he ... ? Could he actually do it?

"_Missed me already?"_ Hiwatari asked, speaking up to compete with the busy noise of chatter behind him. _"You've caught me right in the middle of a meal, so make it brief."_

'You can do this. You must do this. You're already caught up in this twisted deal, so why not benefit from it?' Tala told himself, and said, "Brooklyn Kingston."

"_Go on,"_ Hiwatari said, suddenly finding some spare time in his 'busy' schedule.

"A cocooned moth was found in Wyatt Ishida's stomach."

" _... How unexpected."_

Tala felt his stomach sink, along with his entire hypothesis.

"But ... I thought you'd know that. You hinted that there was something in Granger's head—"

"_It's about time you got around to that one."_

"Then there is at least that? There_ is_ a moth in Granger?"

"_There _was_, before I removed it."_

"Why did you?"

"_Personal reasons."_

"Then, am I heading in the right direction by investigating Kingston?"

"_If you do you might find a few things you didn't know that you didn't know."_

"A straight answer, Hiwatari, please," Tala said softly, uncomfortable about saying the man's name out loud. "Yes or no?"

"_That's up to you. Do not mistake me for the good guy, officer. I am not helping the law, I am assisting you. _Only_ you. And I trust you'll make the right decisions."_

"You haven't left me with a whole lot of options," Tala said shortly. "If I don't do things your way you'll take it out on others."

"_Speaking of which, how's the Captain?"_

"What do you mean?"

"_Lonely, is he? Hence why you've moved in with him?"_

"How do you know that?" he asked tensely. "And what's it to you? You already have me withholding information from my colleagues; are you going to order me to avoid them altogether as well?"

"_You must be lonely as well, having to keep our secret. There's no one to turn to, is there? Just you and me ... I am most eager to take our relationship to a more personal level. And I can be very patient, but in the end, Officer Ivanov, I always get what I want."_

"I don't need anyone but Bryan."

Tala let out a silent "Fuck!" the moment the words left his lips. The foreboding silence on the other end only reinforced just how stupid a declaration that had been.

"_Do you?"_ Hiwatari finally asked.

"What is that supposed to mean? Keep your nose out of my personal life."

"_For now." _And Hiwatari hung up.

'What did I just do?' Tala wondered, slowly closing the phone and slumping back against the wall. 'Bryan ... Is he now in danger? Did Hiwatari take my words as a challenge? Would he hurt Bryan? Kill Bryan? For what? Just to get to me? Just to hurt me?'

"Ready!" Michael said, entering the office. "Hey, what's with you? Are you gonna be sick?"

Slipping the cell into his pocket, Tala shook his head.

"Tired," he said honestly. "Just tired. Let's go see the boss."

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	15. January 20

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Thursday, January 20**__**th**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 14.13**_

"I think we've used half a tank of gas on the driveway alone," Michael said, shutting off the engine and climbing out of the car. "Good luck to the sorry bastards who want to burgle this place. If the barbwire electric fence doesn't kill them, the walk up to the house will."

"The rich go to great extent to protect their property," Tala said, stuffing his recorder into his coat, which he then pulled shut against the icy wind. "If they have the money to afford personal safety, then why not get the best?"

"Hn. I'd bet my cap that all these security measures are meant to keep people _in_ the compound, not out. Brooklyn's father is just making sure he's got complete control over his little boy. Crap, I forgot just how much I hate this place."

This place was more a city than a manor. At the end of the five mile driveway, surrounded by acres of lawn and gardens, was a building that made the second largest manor Tala had ever seen look like a doghouse. Nothing on it was small or humble. It was extravagant and vain, and proud of it. The windows were twice as tall as the front doors, and the roof was guarded by stone gargoyles. Despite the green lawns and white snow that made up the grounds, nothing could brighten the manor itself with its dark stones, dark windows, dark doors, dark roofs, and dark chimneys that emitted dark smoke.

"Not even the Adams Family would want to spend a night here. All that money though … Being areclusive abuse victim has its perks," Michael whistled, shielding his eyes with one hand as he stared up at the four story manor.

"That's not funny."

"Chill out. It wasn't supposed to be. And what's got my favourite redhead's briefs in a knot? You've been uptight and snappish all day."

"Let's just get this over with."

He could feel the American's eyes on him as he walked towards the house. Given how much Michael stood up for him—and put up with him—he shouldn't be treating the other like this. But right now he was not in the mood to play nice.

Climbing the dark stone stairs leading up to the front door, he had barely raised his hand when the door opened. A grave-looking man with wispy white hair wearing a solid black suit leered at them.

"Yes?" he demanded as if they were being very inconvenient.

"Good afternoon, sir," Michael said, finally getting into professional mode. "You might not remember me, but I'm Detective Michael Parker and this—"

"I remember you, Parker," the man, presumably the butler, sneered. "What do you want?"

"We're investigating the escape of Kai Hiwatari," Michael said, matching the man's unpleasantness perfectly. "Brooklyn Kingston and he attended the same university in the past. We would like to speak to him."

"The master of the house is not in at the moment."

"We're not here to talk to the master. We've been talking to all of Hiwatari's old acquaintances. A few questions and we'll be on our way."

" … Very well."

The interior was even more depressing than the outside of the manor. The furniture was of black wood. The rugs were all drab colours. The walls were hung with massive canvasses of harsh-looking people. There was an unpleasant scent as well. Not smelly or rotten, but … empty. It felt like no one lived there. Everything was neat and orderly. No shoes in the entrance hall; no bric-a-brac or knickknacks carelessly left on the tables; not the slightest hints of welcome. It was silent. And vast. And unbearable.

"Master Kingston won't be happy about this, routine or not," the butler said, refusing to take their coats. He brought them into a sitting room with overstuffed chairs and a huge fireplace. "As your records should prove, he does not appreciate the police heckling him on such delicate matters."

"Yes, we are aware of that," Michael said, exuding disinterest as he spoke with his back to the butler. "We're on a pretty tight schedule, if you don't mind."

Huffing, the old man left.

"Hired help is so hard to find these days," Michael said, taking off and putting back on his cap. "You'd think the ones who do get the job would be grateful enough not to be so sour-faced about it."

Sitting opposite the fire, Tala remained silent as Michael went on talking. At first he just stared at the flickering flames, but then looked away when they slowly turned into burning red eyes. The cell phone in his pocket felt like it weighed a ton; and the weight seemed to increase with the threat that it could ring at any given moment.

Tala could still hear that voice. Smooth and collected, yet determined. It scared him. It scared him because not only was he playing a dangerous game with a dangerous man, but if he didn't play by the rules innocent people would get hurt, including the person he cared for the most.

Was Hiwatari telling the truth? Was Bryan in danger? Why though? Why was Hiwatari so fixated on him? What had he done in the short time he knew him that had caught the bluenette's attention? What made him so interesting to Hiwatari?

" _... I am most eager to take our relationship to a more personal level ... And I can be very patient, but in the end, Officer Ivanov, I always get what I want ... "_

"Spill it," Michael said, punching Tala's arm as he perched himself on the armrest of Tala's chair. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Tala turned on the American. "What's _wrong_? We've got two psychos on the loose; no leads; no witnesses; a growing body-count; Johnny McGregor; and less than a week before the next body surfaces; and you're asking me what's wrong? Can't you figure things out on your own, Michael?"

Michael stared at him, puzzled by his hostility. Tala sighed, resting his head in his palms.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he said. "I know that you want to do the right thing just as much as I do. I know that you're just better at hiding your true emotions than I am. Sorry."

"Just keep it together, Tala," Michael said, squeezing his shoulder. "I understand. Now is not the time, though. It's a really bad time, actually—" He paused when they heard footsteps coming towards them, then quickly added, "Look, Brooklyn Kingston is … How can I put this … fucked up. You can expect a lot of weird things from him. He's very good at catching people off guard. One minute he's negotiable, the next he shuts you out, the next he starts rambling. Seriously, expect the unexpected."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen!" said a cheery voice at the doorway. "What a pleasant surprise!"

Despite Michael's warning, Tala was caught off guard by Brooklyn Kingston's appearance. He had expected a fragile human being, soft spoken and uncomfortable in the company of strangers. Tala had been prepared to approach him calmly and reassuringly. Instead, he was numbly shaking hands with a tall, handsome, smiling young man with shocking orange hair and bright teal eyes.

"It's a long journey, all the way from Tokyo. Sorry about Kiba. He's overly suspicious of everyone. Bring our guests something to drink," he said in one breath, turning to the grumpy butler. "And something to eat as well. I'm hungry."

"Won't your father be displeased with you entertaining people when he's not here, sir?" Kiba asked, eyeing both officers with distaste. "You may recall what happened last time."

"Please hurry with those refreshments," Brooklyn said without addressing the butler's concerns.

Kiba scowled as he bowed, but obeyed.

"I'm afraid you've come on one of his worst days," Brooklyn said, now eagerly shaking hands with Michael, though he was unable to keep his eyes off Tala for more than a couple of seconds at a time. "He's arthritic and suffers from bad backaches, but he's father's most loyal servant. He didn't treat you too poorly, did he? I think he did a bad job representing our home when he answered the door. Again, I apologize for his conduct."

He pushed a chair over to face Tala's and sat down, folding his legs beneath him, looking so excited to have someone to talk to. He was wearing nothing more than an oversized sweater; its hem and sleeves reached him well past his knees. Old bruises could be seen on his calves and shins and long red scrapes ran across his knees. His messy hair and innocent face made Tala pity him. Was this the result of his years of abuse at the hands of his father? Or was this a killer's brilliant cover-up?

"Do you have a card?" Brooklyn asked.

"Er, sure." Tala handed him an official business card with his name and phone number on it.

"You are attractive," Brooklyn said, looking from the name to Tala and back again. "So very attractive. Your name's nice too. Do you have a partner? You must have. It's impossible for someone like you to be single. That would be a shame."

"I am with someone," Tala said gently. "But thank you for your observation."

"May I … ?" Brooklyn asked, leaning forward and stretching out a hand. He lightly ran a finger down Tala's cheek. "Your skin is soft. Your partner must love feeling it."

"Mr Kingston," Tala said quickly, pulling back.

"That's my father. Call me Brooklyn. You blush beautifully too."

"Brooklyn, I've heard that you were once a classmate of Kai Hiwatari."

"Kai?" Brooklyn looked away, pondering over the name. "Kai … Kai … Oh yes! It's been a while since I last spoke to him. Years, actually. Hang on ... Ah, I haven't seen him since his arrest." He laughed and playfully slapped his forehead. "You must think I'm an idiot, forgetting him like that! I've just been so busy lately helping my father manage the business. How is he? Still in prison, I presume."

"He _was_ in a mental asylum. Don't you know that he escaped a few days ago?"

The news had sent all of Japan in a frenzied panic, but Brooklyn's only reaction was a casual 'Oh, did he?' look.

"It's all over the news," Tala said. "You must have heard of it."

"I don't own a TV. Father doesn't allow it. He doesn't like me watching TV. It's all bad and deceitful and depressing, he says. So are newspapers. Everything in the world is bad. I rather not know of it. Father can handle things like that. Father knows best, especially what's best for me," Brooklyn said, sounding as though he'd been taught to recite those lines by heart. He turned to Michael. "I remember you. Aren't you one of the Americans who was looking for Kai back then?"

"Yeah," Michael said. "Interesting that you remember my face from one quick interview five years ago, but couldn't immediately remember a classmate who you've known for years?"

"Yes," Brooklyn smiled widely. "Isn't it strange? My memory does things like that often. Sometimes I forget what I was doing or where I was going. It's not uncommon for me to wake up in unexpected places, like father's bed, with no recollections of how I got there in the first place. I once even forgot to put on pants before meeting guests!"

"That would be now," Michael said.

Brooklyn looked down, shocked, and giggled, belatedly pulling the hem down to cover himself better.

"How embarrassing! You should have said something sooner. Unless you liked it like that … "

"Brooklyn," Michael said, allowing himself a tired sigh, "are you aware of the other killer on the loose? Dox? Has your father made any mention of him?"

"Not to me, no. Another killer? Of course, my father wouldn't mention it." Brooklyn looked between them, quizzical. "You make it sound as if this is a major threat. I'd think that the police would be solely focused on catching the infamous Kai Hiwatari. You aren't actually wasting time and manpower on a fledgling criminal, are you?"

"He's killed three people so far without leaving a single valuable clue. We've got half the department after him. His modus operandi incorporates the seven deadly sins."

"Greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, lust, envy and wrath? Really? How creative. So well-thought out. So … So much _better_ than anything Hiwatari ever did, isn't it?" Brooklyn sat back, running the thought through his head as many times as possible. "Better than Hiwatari. I wonder … This Dox will most likely become the greatest murderer in the history of Japan."

"He's going to become the deadest murderer in the history of Japan once we get our hands on him," Michael said, giving the young man a hard look. "We caught Hiwatari once. We can catch him again, and this killer as well."

"He's better than Hiwatari, so he won't be as easy to catch," Brooklyn said confidently, then turned back to Tala, smiling. "I'm sorry. It must be such a tough case, chasing someone so brilliant, especially for a student. Just thinking about how much pressure you must be under makes me hate myself for approving of this Dox's work. You haven't smiled once. I'd love to see a smile on such a pretty face."

Michael was about to intervene. Tala stopped him with a subtle shake of his head. Falling back, the American waited, aware that Tala was planning something, ready to play along. Squeezing Brooklyn's hands, Tala smiled weakly.

"Current events don't really warrant a smile, Brooklyn. I've been spending a lot of time in the office."

"I want to see a better smile," Brooklyn frowned. "A happy one. What makes you happy? Please tell me."

"We don't really have time to—"

"Tell me, Tala!" Brooklyn demanded, leaning in.

"Brooklyn, we have other places to be. We only wanted to ask you some questions about Hiwatari, but seeing as you know nothing of the matter we'd better be go," Tala said.

The teal eyes began to glisten. Crawling out of his chair and kneeling before Tala, Brooklyn rested his head on Tala's knee and looked at him like an injured puppy.

"I'll do everything in my power to make you smile."

Tala sighed.

"It doesn't really take that much effort to please me, if it's that important to you. I like simple things: books, music—"

"We have a library!" Brooklyn gushed, jumping to his feet and pulling Tala up with him. "And a lot of other simple things, like paintings and statues all around the house. Would you like to see those? Would that make you smile? We also have a big garden and a game room and a pool and a home theatre and a lot of nice cars. You can't drive them, or touch them, because that would make father angry, but you can look at them. And there's father's game room; he won't mind you looking in there. He loves showing off all his trophies."

"I'm too much of an animal lover to appreciate hunting trophies."

If possible, Brooklyn's eyes sparkled even brighter.

"Animals? I love animals too! Do you have any pets?"

"One. A wolf hybrid named Wolborg."

"Wow. I've always wanted a dog." Brooklyn laughed, swinging their interlocked hands from side to side. "I had a parrot once called Zeus. Father had him shot one day when I wouldn't come to him. The only animals we now have are butterflies and moths. I'm not too happy about that. They aren't meant to be pets and belong in the open air. But father likes to collect them. He has had a small enclosure made for them where they can fly freely amongst nature."

Behind Brooklyn, Michael gave Tala a thumbs-up when he realized that this was the piece of information that Tala had been hoping for.

"In the house?" Tala asked, not dropping the act. "I've never seen something like that before."

"I'll show you! You won't be able to stop smiling!"

Kiba entered, carrying a tray of drinks and fancy snacks. He sneered at the sight of his young master standing so close to Tala and put the tray down hard, rattling the crystal glasses and silver forks.

"Coincidentally, young master, you're father is on his way. He will be here in the next twenty minutes," he said, pretending he hadn't obviously been the one to inform Mr Kingston of their presence. "He said that you are to return to your room until he gets home."

Brooklyn's excitement died and his hand tightened around Tala's. He looked down, then raised his head with a brave smile.

"I'm glad father's coming home earlier. He said that he wouldn't be back until much later. Notify me when he arrives. I'm going to show our guest the butterfly enclosure."

He didn't invite Michael along, who looked more suspicious than insulted as Brooklyn started to lead Tala away.

"I'll stay here. Mr Kingston might want to talk to me," Michael said to the butler as Tala was led out of the room.

Brooklyn was humming, rocking his head to the tune as he walked Tala down the hall, their hands entwined.

'Who are you … ?' Tala wondered, staring at Brooklyn. 'Should I fear you? Hate you? Should I pity you? Understand you? Should I … '

The house had everything Brooklyn had mentioned. For all its luxury, however, no amount of money could make the place feel homely. Things that were normally comforting, like the family room, or things that were normally welcoming, like the kitchen, or things that were normally exotic, like the atrium, chilled Tala with their barrenness.

A few halls down from the atrium Brooklyn stopped before an ordinary looking door and opened it, ushering Tala inside before quickly closing the door behind them. A large monarch butterfly flitted past them both and settled on a nearby rose.

"This is it," Brooklyn said cheerfully, soaking in the light provided by spotlights high above the enclosure.

Never had a blooming garden look so twisted. Tala didn't know why. He couldn't find anything other than colourful flowers and trickling streams and beautiful butterflies. Everything looked perfectly normal. A lot of time and planning had gone into making it as natural as possible. Brooklyn looked like he was in heaven. Tala felt like he was trapped.

"It's different," was all he could say when Brooklyn turned to him with an expectant look.

"You're not smiling," Brooklyn said, his own smile vanishing. "I thought this would make you happy. Perhaps if I showed you some of the creatures here."

Brooklyn looked around and with a quick movement gently snatched a low flying butterfly out of the air. Caging it in with his fingers, mindful not to harm its delicate wings, he held it out for Tala to see its iridescent blue wings.

"A member of the Blue Morpho family, this one native to Central and South America. The larvae are cannibals. One of my favourites."

"It's beautiful. Brooklyn, are you allowed to leave this estate?"

Brooklyn released the insect and crouched down before a rose bush.

"Oh, plenty of times. Father's brings me with him on most of his travels. He likes my company. Ah!" He held up another specimen for Tala. "Did you know that swallowtail butterflies have at least five hundred different species. They're one of the biggest and most colourful species of butterflies in the world."

"So I've heard," Tala said, lightly touching the wings. "Are you allowed to go anywhere on your own?"

"Never. The world's a dangerous place, he says. Bad people live out there. Sick people. And this," he snatched another passing insect, releasing the first one, "is a moth." He studied it closer. "A Luna moth."

Tala carefully took the creature.

"I thought moths were nocturnal," he said, examining the specimen sitting placidly in his palm.

"Most of them are. Did you know that adult moths have no digestive tracts? Once they emerge from their cocoon their sole task is to find a mate, reproduce, and then die. They actually starve to death and have a lifespan of only a week. Born only to procreate, suffer and die. Such a sad life."

"It is," Tala said, releasing the moth.

"You remind me of these moths." Brooklyn stood, catching a lime green moth crawling across a branch. "Delicate, yet somehow capable of coping with destined suffering." He opened his hand and watched the moth flutter away. "You've spoken to Kai."

"I interrogated him while he was imprisoned, yes."

"He was interested," Brooklyn said, staring up into the light.

"I cannot disclose any information about the case."

"I'm not talking about the case. He was interested in_ you_."

"Not to my knowledge. What makes you think that?"

Hands caught his face and gently forced him to look Brooklyn in the eyes.

"I know my rival. Kai and I, we shared much in common. We thought alike. We liked the same things. We wanted the same things: acclaim, respect, recognition, awards, knowledge, power, experience, culture, legacy. That's why people said that we were rivals. Really, we were just trying to be the best." Something then changed in Brooklyn's voice; it grew softer, deeper. "Standing here, talking to you, seeing you … I want nothing more than to see you smile. I want … I want you to be … If I only knew how I'd … "

"You'd make me happy?"

Brooklyn blinked, then smiled a knowing smile that contradicted his earlier innocence.

"Kai said that, didn't he? I know he did. And look what he's done. Escaping like that and killing all those innocent people; leading the police on a wild goose chase. He's not making you happy. He's only thinking about himself."

Arms pulled Tala into an intimate hug. A kiss was placed gently on his cheek before the mouth moved down, lightly kissing his jaw line and neck. Moving back up, Brooklyn whispered in his ear, "We are both unhappy. We can make each other happy again. Smile for me. Be happy for me, and I will know a happiness I've never known before. Please, Tala … just … smile."

A smile. He had been asked many things by others, but never something as simple as a smile. Brooklyn wanted so little, and would appreciate it so much, unlike all the others who expected so much and hardly ever showed gratitude. Even Bryan could be demanding. Closing his eyes, Tala rested his head against Brooklyn's and stroked his hair. He felt the sob as the other held him closer.

"I want to know you," Brooklyn muttered. "I want to know you better. I can't explain why. You said you're already with someone else, but I want to be with you too. I want us to be closer."

" _... I am most eager to take our relationship to a more personal level ... "_

Were Brooklyn and Hiwatari really so alike? The same goals and dreams, the same strives and achievements. Always competing in everything they did. Everything … no matter how difficult or ridiculous … or gruelling …

"Look at me," Tala said, taking the other by the chin. "Look at me and tell me, honestly, that you would never do something like Hiwatari. Tell me, no lies, that you would never do something to make me unhappy. Tell me that you are not like Hiwatari."

"I am better than him," Brooklyn answered brusquely. "I am far superior to him. I will prove it to you."

Behind those teal blue eyes, was a lonely, broken person, so desperate to be someone, anyone. So desperate to have someone, anyone, to talk to. To hold. Alone in a house that was never a home, with a man who was never a father, and a butler who did only as much as his salary demanded of him

"Hiwatari should have appreciated you when you went to see him. He should have appreciated you like I do." Brooklyn blushed and broke eye contact. "I'm sorry for saying such things. You look so surprised and uncertain. I'm probably going about this the wrong way. I don't know how … I'm not good at talking with other people. What I want to say is that I'd like to see more of you. A new face. A friendly face. And, maybe one day, a happy face."

'He's so different,' Tala thought. 'So strangely detached. All he wants is a little smile. He wants me to be happy. Just like Hiwatari … No. Hiwatari wants more than a smile, because he's already seen me smile. Because when I went to see him in the asylum he made me smile. Why? Why did I smile so easily for Hiwatari? Why can't I do the same for Brooklyn?'

Hiwatari tortured him, mentally. Hiwatari took great pleasure in dissecting his mind and using whatever he held dear against him. Hiwatari wanted to break him. Hiwatari had told him all this. Hiwatari had told him all this to his face. Not once, despite the bluenette's instability and cunning, had he lied. Whatever he said, it was the truth, as harsh and cruel as it may be.

Brooklyn, on the other hand … Something. Before he had begun to understand, before he had begun to pity, something about Brooklyn had already struck Tala as unusual. Something that couldn't be the truth. Whereas Hiwatari was outright and frank, Brooklyn, who claimed them to be alike, had strayed. He had said something …

" … _You are attractive … "_

" … _Everything in the world is bad ... I rather not know of it … "_

" … _wrath ... How creative … "_

" … _He's better than Hiwatari so he won't be as easy to catch … "_

" … _I am better than him … "_

Over Brooklyn's shoulder, a brown and black moth fluttered out of the shadowy cove. It looked weak, flying in unsteady circles just inches above the ground. In its final death throes, the moth's wings failed to keep it aloft any longer and it fell soundlessly onto the grass, still twitching.

The door opened.

"Master Brooklyn, your father demands that you go to his bedroom. He's waiting for you there," Kiba said gleefully, despite his black eye. "And you, officer, are to leave this house at once. The Master has nothing to say to the likes of you and if you do not leave the property at once he will be pressing charges."

Brooklyn gripped Tala closer to him, afraid to let go and face his father, but he eventually released Tala, tugging at the sleeves of his large sweater. With Kiba holding the door open, not about to leave without him, he gave Tala a shaky smile.

"I'm sorry. I didn't make you smile. I will try harder next time."

"There won't be a next time!" Kiba said loudly. "They are not allowed back in this house!"

"There's always a next time," Brooklyn said, paying the ranting senior no mind. "We might be seeing each other again real soon."

"We'll see," Tala said. "The future is unpredictable."

Brooklyn beamed, blue eyes brilliant under the fluorescent lights, the bruises on his legs more prominent than ever.

"Goodbye, Tala."

After Brooklyn left Kiba remained at the door, making an impatient sound when Tala didn't exit quick enough. Before he did, though, Tala looked back one last time. The moth on the ground no longer moved. In it's weakening fight for life, it had flipped over.

On the insect's back, unmistakeable in the bright lights, was a white, skull-like marking.

"That was informative!" Michael sighed as they buckled themselves into their seats. "A good hunch, Tala, but ultimately a dead end. Only thing I learned from this visit was why I never wanted to see those freaks again. You should have seen the look on old man Kingston's face. He took one look at me and stomped off."

As Michael started up the engine Tala glanced in his side mirror. Someone was watching them leave from an upstairs window.

"He knows something," he said as he took out his recorder, which had been on the entire time.

"Brooklyn didn't know anything we needed him to know. Nothing about Hiwatari's escape or Dox's murders. I believe him when he said his dad doesn't allow him any access to the outside world. He lives in his own happy … Well, abused-and-secluded, little world. We told him more than he knew."

"He called me by my first name."

"Yeah, he took to you very quickly. Russian charm, I guess."

Not looking up from fiddling with the recorder, Tala said, "I never told him my name, Michael."

" … You sure?"

"You didn't get a chance to introduce me to the butler, so he couldn't have told Brooklyn, and I didn't introduce myself to Brooklyn. Brooklyn remembers your name from your last visit, but never asked me mine. And yet he called me Tala, twice."

"He could have heard me say your name before he came in."

"He said that he didn't know anything about Hiwatari's escape, but he knew that personnel had been killed," Tala added.

"I'm not trying to defend this guy, but anyone would guess that any escape route laid down by Hiwatari is bound to be littered with bodies. I know that father of his, and I believe when Brooklyn says that he has no knowledge of the outside world."

"Then how do you explain this?"

Tala pressed the PLAY button on his recorder.

" _... Greed, gluttony, sloth, pride, lust, envy and wrath ... "_

"So he knows about the seven sins. What's so surprising about that?"

"If he didn't know about the murders, then how is it that he got the sequence of the first three executed sins correctly?"

Michael, who'd had his head propped up by one hand, suddenly straightened.

"Hang on ... Nah. Okay, so he is probably lying about that, but he can't possibly be Dox. He never leaves this place, and he sure as hell wouldn't be allowed to travel to Tokyo on his own."

Tala stared ahead at the heavy gates at the end of the driveway, the only way through the high walls and fences topped with barb wire. He thought of the power Kingston had over his son, and how he had warped Brooklyn's mind enough to make the young man revere him, and never disobey his orders. He thought of Kiba's nosy tendencies, quick to run and report any of Brooklyn's wrongdoings to his father, maliciously excited about informing Brooklyn of his impending punishment, just to see Brooklyn's reaction.

"It would be very difficult for Brooklyn to commit these crimes," Tala had to admit. "But even if it's not him he still knows a lot more than he'd like us to believe."

One thing was for certain: they were both glad that the meeting was over. All they wanted right now was to get as far away from the estate as possible.

_**Friday, January 21**__**st**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 03.40**_

_Will be in the office all night. Don't wait up._

—_Bryan_

Tala stared at the note on the table, keys in his left hand, cell phone in his right. The cell phone was cold. His fingers hesitated. He wanted to call Bryan first, to tell him that he'd made it home, to tell him how it had gone. But everything was still very much coded to him. He wanted to be able to present Bryan with some solid facts and there was only one person he knew would have them. But to make the call …

'I'm giving him what he wants, but that's the only thing I can do. There's no other way.'

Defeated, he pressed the redial button and brought the phone to his ear.

'Nothing will happen to Bryan. Not as long as I'm alive.'

It rang twice before being picked up. Classical music was playing in the background.

"_Your timing is horrible as always, Officer Ivanov. First interrupting my lunch, and now my show."_

"How inconsiderate of me," Tala replied coldly. "You are the one who came up with this means of communication."

"_That I cannot refute. So, how went your little talk with my dear rival?"_

"I don't know. Several things supported our suspicions, but several more undermined them."

"_Not much progress then?"_

"You tell me."

"_Far be it from me to say. This is, after all, your case."_

"You took it upon yourself to care."

"_I couldn't care less if all of Tokyo was eradicated. You know why I am doing this."_

"Don't you go anywhere near Bryan!" Tala said suddenly, letting his emotions get the best of him. "Listen here, you—"

"_No. _You_ listen. You would be up the creek without a paddle if it weren't for me. Again, I will make myself clear: you can do this on your own, and inevitable fail, or you can allow me to share my knowledge with you, and succeed. As I said, I am patient and can easily wait until the case has been resolved before pursuing you."_

"Then why wait? You know who Dox is; why not just tell me, if you're so eager?"

"_Am I? Are you? I happen to be enjoying this little game of ours."_

"First of all, I'm not. Second, it's your sick game."

"_Officer Ivanov, this conversation is unnecessary and tedious. You're making me miss the best parts. I haven't heard a decent Mozart recital in years. I'm sure you have plenty to rant about so why don't you drop by and we can have a more serious conversation. Goodbye."_

Tala had to fight the urge to smash the phone to the floor. He shouldn't let Hiwatari get to him, but the bluenette had a talent for getting under his skin. No wonder Boris hated him so much: the harder Boris tried to beat him, the more Hiwatari played him, the angrier Balcov got, the more amused Hiwatari got, the harder Boris tried to beat him, and the more spectacularly he failed. It was clear that keeping calm and rational was the key to dealing with Hiwatari, but he made it so difficult!

'I cannot let him win. Unlike Boris, my aim is to save lives. Losing this game is not an option.'

Hiwatari wanted him to drop by. Of course, he had no idea where the convict was hiding out. But Hiwatari, as insane as he was, wasn't irrational. He must have left behind some clues as to his whereabouts. Had the man not been so engrossed in that damn Mozart recital Tala could have asked ...

Tala stopped.

"A recital? At four in the morning?"

Rushing over to where he had installed his computer in Bryan's living room, he searched all of Tokyo for any such recitals. He found one, but it wasn't scheduled for until the 22nd in the Grand Corner Theatre, which usually showed small, independent plays and concerts but occasionally hosted bigger productions, according to the webpage. Scrolling down, he read the week's schedule, all unknown plays to him.

_**Do's and Don't's**_

_**To Be, If Not Two Be**_

_**One Confession Too Late**_

_**Their Last Dinner In Rome**_

_**Salem's Week**_

The theatre's address didn't ring a bell. He checked the dates, the times, the productions. He looked up the contacts and past owners. There was nothing suspicious about the building itself. The theatre was relatively new. It had once been an apartment building before being sold and remodelled into a theatre.

'I'm overlooking something. I can feel it.'

Staring at the main page, Tala racked his memory. Something eluded him, so obvious and enigmatic at the same time.

'Where are you, Hiwatari? Where do you want me to go?'

This last talk had brought him to this website. The last time they had seen each other in person had been in Tala's apartment. He remembered Hiwatari brutally stripping him to the core, reading him like an open book. He remembered Hiwatari making him the offer he couldn't refuse. He remembered how he had allowed the man to escape. And how Hiwatari had him minutes later to mock him a bit more.

Tala frowned. That very first call …

_**Do's and Don't's**_

_**To Be, If Not Two Be**_

_**One Confession Too Late**_

_**Their Last Dinner In Rome**_

_**Salem's Week**_

It was right there, somewhere …

" _... __And, just for old times' sake, don't be late last week ... "_

That line. Hiwatari had ended their first telephone conversation with that confusing line. A line that made no sense. A line that was meant to make no sense. A line that, like all of Hiwatari's tips, was easily solved once one knew where to look. Tala stared at the screen, and through his headache, laughed dryly.

"Clever, Hiwatari. Very clever."

_**Do's and **__**Don't**__**'s**_

_**To **__**Be**__**, If Not Two Be**_

_**One Confession Too **__**Late**_

_**  
Their **__**Last**__** Dinner In Rome**_

_**Salem's **__**Week**_

Hiwatari was at the theatre. He'd been there all this time, keeping a low-profile yet enjoying all the perks of a cultural lifestyle, watching choirs and actors and orchestras practicing in the early mornings to prepare themselves for their performances.

This Hiwatari answered after the first ring. Music was still playing in the background.

"_A useful thing, the Internet, isn't it?" _Hiwatari said.

"When?" Tala asked.

"_Tomorrow. Seven PM. Dress appropriately: this is a classical recital."_

"This isn't a date. I need answers."

"_And you will get them if you behave."_

"I will if you will," Tala said stiffly.

"_No promises. Do we have a deal?"_

" … "

"_No? Then I'll return to the recital and you can tell your beloved all the things you don't know."_

" … I'll be there," Tala grudgingly said.

"_Good. I am looking forward to it. Sayonara."_

When Tala snapped the phone shut, frustrated, the wolf sticker's toothy snarl seemed to sneer back at him, as if as disgusted with the entire affaire as he was.

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	16. January 22

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** M

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 22**__**nd**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 06.23**_

"You're quiet."

"Am I usually chatty?"

"You haven't even said good morning yet."

"Good morning. Satisfied?"

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

Tala sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the book he'd left on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Restless night," he said truthfully, but said nothing more.

He felt Bryan shift behind him, but he didn't take the hint. A hand gently turned him over onto his back. He looked up with blood shot eyes as Bryan leaned over him, their naked bodies touching. Brushing red hair out of the way, Bryan kissed him, trying to get a more lively response. Tala didn't give in until the kiss became too deep to not affect him. He smiled and rested his head against Bryan's as the other placed small kisses on his cheeks and ear. After that they lay wordlessly for several minutes.

"You're quiet too," Tala said, nudging him.

"Didn't want to disturb your thoughts."

"You were late last night. Anything big happened?"

"That would have been a welcomed change," Bryan said, laying back down on his back and pulling Tala up to lay across his chest, their legs entwined. "Chaos, fights, bloodshed, boycotts, hate speeches, death threats; and that's just between McGregor and Parker."

"Bloodshed?"

"Training room. Parker vs. McGregor in the boxing ring. McGregor took a punch to his nose and has been a complete bitch ever since. Parker's been a strutting bastard ever since."

"Looks like I'm missing all the fun." He felt Bryan stifle a laugh and smiled himself, trying to imagine how the Scotsman must look with a big bandage across his nose and a humiliated look on his face. "Michael's a great guy."

"I've warmed up to him too, especially since that boxing match. Good work with Kingston, by the way. Michael reckons you two make a good team."

"You think?"

"I might assign you two as partners in the long run. That is, if you decide to come back to Japan once you finish your studies. I know Parker won't object."

"Shouldn't you be jealous of us getting along so well?"

"You have better taste."

"I don't know…I'm with you, aren't I?"

He threw himself back to escape Bryan's hands but before he could make a successful getaway he was grabbed by the legs, almost making him fall face first off the bed. Luckily, Bryan's grip was strong and he pulled him back just in time.

"I'm sorry, what was that you said?" Bryan grinned devilishly, one hand slinking its way between Tala's legs.

Nonetheless, Tala kept up a defiant grin of his own.

"Didn't you hear me? Getting old, are we?"

"Old?" Bryan sniffed with false indignation. "You think I'm old?"

"Very, very old. Your hair will be white soon," Tala said, plucking at the light strands.

"Uh-huh…" Bryan pushed Tala down into the pillows. "Shall I prove to you just how old I am?"

Tala faked a wide yawn and pretended to go back to sleep. His laugh was muffled when Bryan muttered something beneath his breath and caught his lips in a solid kiss. He lifted his hips as Bryan parted his legs but their eager sighs and groans were interrupted by Bryan's cell going off in the pocket of his jacket across the room.

Cursing, Bryan pulled away. His mobile was only used for official business, meaning that he could never afford to miss a single call. Answering the phone, naked, Bryan still managed to look and sound as impressive as he did when addressing a room full of officers before a major operation.

Smiling at the sight, Tala rested his head back down, skin still tingling from Bryan's touches.

" … _Tomorrow … "_

And there was the voice. _His _voice, cutting through Tala's conscience. Remembering Hiwatari's own touches with a shiver of disgust, Tala wrapped the sheets tighter around him as he turned onto his side.

" … _Seven PM … "_

Tala turned back to look at his lover, who was getting dressed as he talked over the phone. Tala looked away again, staring out the glass doors, past the balcony.

" … _I am looking forward to it … "_

'Why did I agree to do it?' Tala wondered.

" … _I am most eager to take our relationship to a more personal level … "_

'I'm only making things worse.'

" … _In the end, Officer Ivanov, I always get what I want … "_

"This is going to be a long day," Bryan sighed, taking a seat next to Tala to lean over him with one arm. "I don't think I'm going to be making it back before tomorrow morning. Think you'll live without me for that long?"

"I hung on for all those years," Tala said, not meaning to sound so dry.

Bryan looked hurt, but before Tala could recant his words tender lips pressed against his.

"I'm sorry," Bryan whispered. "I've got a lot of making up to do. Once this is all over, we'll go away somewhere. We both deserve a long holiday. Just you and me."

"What about Wolborg?"

Bryan rolled his eyes.

"We'll take him along too, of course. Ever been to the Caribbean?"

Tala shook his head.

"Me neither. We'll make it an adventure … if we ever leave our hotel room."

"I'd like that," Tala smiled.

"So, what will you be doing today?" Bryan asked, getting off the bed.

His smile evaporating, Tala shrugged.

"I'll work from home. I'll get more done here, without Johnny breathing down my neck. I can cook dinner if you want."

"I'll eat something at the office." Fully dressed, Bryan grabbed his keys. "Don't get too lonely tonight, okay?"

"Bryan," he called, throwing off the sheets to catch the other before Bryan could even open the door. He pulled Bryan's head down for a deep kiss.

"What ... ?" Bryan asked when they broke apart. "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

Tala didn't answer, instead trailing light fingers over Bryan's face. He kissed his lover one more time before letting him go.

"I'm just worried that you're pushing yourself," he said softly, turning away to pick up a shirt he'd thrown on the floor the night before. "Bryan ... Do you trust me?"

"We've had this conversation before, haven't we? Of course I trust you. I trust that you are doing everything you can for this case. Why do you keep asking?"

" ... I guess I just need to hear that every now and then."

"Scatter-brain," Bryan said affectionately, kissing Tala on the side of the head before heading downstairs, shouting back, "I'll call you during the day."

Tala sat on their unmade bed long after the front door closed. Standing, he walked over to his cupboard and, shifting through his socks, pulled out the ice-blue phone.

" … _In the end, Officer Ivanov, I always get what I want … "_

"No. Not this time," Tala swore as he headed downstairs, where he was met by Wolborg, who joined him for breakfast. "You'll be back in the asylum, under ever available security we can find. Dox will be in the cell next to you. And I will be with Bryan. That's how things will be in the end, Hiwatari. I won't break. Not for you."

And while he was nowhere near breaking yet, as the hours crawled on by Tala wondered if it were possible for someone to literally shake themselves to pieces. Every time the clock struck a new hour he lost a bit more of his nerves. He stationed himself in the living room with all the files he had at his disposal, all the papers he could find, and all the pencils he would ever need. Bryan called four times during day, once with a request, the other three times just to talk.

When the clock struck five PM Tala still hadn't written a single letter down and had only gotten up once to take Wolborg for a quick walk around the block. Once back home he spent more time staring at the clock than anywhere else. At six PM, he rose nervously to get ready.

" … _Dress appropriately; this is a classical recital … "_

What he ended up wearing was neither casual nor too formal and he berated himself for even making an effort. Being so nervous, he almost forgot his two phones. What he didn't forget was his gun.

Wolborg sat waiting at the front door, intent on coming along. Judging by the way his pet was looking at him, Tala would have sworn that Wolborg knew exactly where he was going; who he'd be meeting. Sitting almost motionless as he watched Tala pull on a coat, Wolborg whined, as if to talk Tala out of his plans.

"No, boy," Tala said, crouching down to pet between the ears. "You can't come along. Stay here and guard the house."

Wolborg whined even louder, placing a large paw on Tala's hand.

"I could never fool you, could I?" Tala smiled. "But I have to do this, alone. I'd hate to think what he'd do to you if I brought you with me."

Hugging the thick neck, he coaxed the dog off the front mat and opened the front door.

"I'll be back soon," Tala promised. "Be a good boy."

Tala felt a heavy weight in his guts as he walked to his car, but couldn't decide if he was worried about what he was getting into, or about what he was risking, or what he was putting at risk.

Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the ignition and looked out the windshield to see Wolborg standing before the large front window of the house, watching him. He gave his faithful pet a small wave. Wolborg barked soundlessly behind the glass as he pulled out of the parking space.

As he drove down the street, the weight within continued to plague him, growing more and more the farther he got from home. His fingers gripped the steering wheel and he stared straight ahead, a million possibilities of how things could go wrong running through his head.

Strangely, the one thing that kept coming back to haunt him was Wolborg's puppy-dog eyes.

"Focus, Tala," he chanted to himself as he turned off their street. "Focus on what's important."

Again, the one thing his mind stubbornly refused to let go of was Wolborg. Perhaps because he didn't want to think of where he was going; perhaps because he wanted to hold on to one of the few good things in his life at that moment; but then why did he feel like meeting Hiwatari was not going to be the only dangerous encounter this evening …

* * *

_**Saturday, January 22**__**nd**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 18.45**_

Grand Corner Theatre must have been the pride and joy of its neighbourhood back when it had been an apartment complex. It had the size, the style and the old beauty of a building that would have stood proud forever if people hadn't polluted its once white facade with graffiti and broken a couple of its second floor windows. That was not to say that it was a rundown shell of the building it used to be; the theatre owners had done their best to retain some of its majesty, with moderate success, but the cheap neon sign broadcasting the theatre's name and the lit posters plastered around the glass entrance did little to celebrate the building's respectful age.

The street wasn't too dark, but the streetlights weren't that bright either. All the same, cars lined both sides, filling every available space as far as the eye could see. Despite the building's less than refined status and location, it being the only one to be housing a Mozart recital in all of Tokyo had attracted people who normally wouldn't have been caught dead in a neighbourhood. To put their clients more at ease, the owners had hired a security squad to guard the pricy Mercedes and Jaguars.

One of the two cell phones in his pocket began to vibrate. Pulling out first the ice blue phone he flipped it open to answer, but there was already message:

_**Backdoor**_

Suddenly feeling vulnerable out here in the street, Tala looked around him, then up at the windows of the nearby buildings but couldn't find anyone.

"Don't let him get to you already," he told himself.

Tala casually nodded at a couple of the guards, pretending to just be out for a walk. They returned the acknowledgement and did nothing more. Only when he was sure that they weren't looking, Tala ducked around the building, into a narrow alley. Upon reaching the back, where the alley's brick wall was cut off by a high wooden fence, he turned around to face the back of the building and found seven doors.

Again, the phone went off and a message popped up onscreen.

_**The third from the left**_

That door was unlocked but Tala was cautious as he pushed it open, making sure that no one was watching, and that no one was on the other side. Inside he found himself in corridor where he could just barely walked through, his shoulders just inches from the stone walls. The corridor only went left, up a flight of stairs. He couldn't hear anything behind the walls; they were too thick to allow sound through them. It felt like he was totally isolated from the world.

As he climbed the stairs, which were in good condition, he realized with a dry throat that somewhere ahead, Hiwatari was waiting. And then … what? He didn't have time to figure that out because he'd reached the top of the stairs. A door, heavily carved with unidentifiable figures, stood before him and he knew that this was it. Beyond the door was a killer, a madman, and he was about to confront him.

The brass doorknob turned without fuss and he stepped inside, leaving behind the dark hall and entering a whole other environment.

A large apartment. Elegantly furnished, warmly lit, tastefully maintained. A coat rack, on which hung a black coat and an extremely long, white scarf, welcomed him with a false homely feel. Stepping out of his shoes (more out of habit than manners), he looked around. From where he stood he could see a kitchen with marble countertops and silvery appliances at the very end of the hall.

There were no rooms on his left, but on his immediate right was a living room, the likes of which he'd expect to find in an old countryside mansion. There was a wide-screen TV and a laptop in one corner, but far outnumbering the modern technological wonders were books, which were everywhere but neatly organized.

He heard the mumbled chatter of low voices, drawing him past the living room, to the only other doorway in the hall. While spacious, the apartment consisted of only four rooms: a living room, a kitchen, and as he entered this new room he could see a bathroom through the partially open door off to the side. This left him in the room he least wanted to be in.

The bedroom.

The lighting in here was very dim. The first thing that caught his eye was an old fashion Victorian record player sitting on an antique three-legged table near a monstrous wardrobe. His attention turned then to the centre piece of the room: the king-sized bed under a heavy canopy that extended down from the ceiling. At last, he turned to his left to find a wide pane of glass, like a personal skybox. Before that glass were two armchairs with their backs to him and a round table between them, on which stood a wine glass and an open bottle of wine. One of the chairs was occupied; he could see an arm, the elbow resting on the stuffed armrests, the hand holding a half-filled glass.

"You know how to make yourself feel at home," Tala said, his hand in his pocket around the grip of his gun.

"Why wouldn't I?" the smooth voice replied. Hiwatari didn't stir in his comfortable seat, not even to turn around and meet Tala's cautious look. "This _is_ my home, after all. As a matter of fact, I only just finished moving in yesterday. And a good evening to you too, Officer Ivanov."

Tala walked past him without looking, keeping the second chair between them, and peered down through the window. Below them was the theatre hall, filled to capacity. They had a perfect, clear view of the stage, on which stood a black mahogany piano and a man, dressed smartly, surrounded by the rest of the orchestra.

"You're just in time," Hiwatari said.

Unable to put it off any longer, Tala looked over his shoulder.

Hiwatari's blue hair was much darker than Tala remembered, almost to the point of being black, though his bangs were still grey. The tattoos on his face were still there, meaning he'd had to be relying on some sort of makeup to cover them up every time he went out in public. Even with the menacing markings, dressed as he was in a sharp suit, Hiwatari wouldn't have looked out of place down below in the audience. As he sipped his drink, he never took his eyes off the stage. Tala would dare to say there was a fond look in those eyes as they appraised the rows of instruments.

"I'm not here to watch the show," Tala said plainly, daring to take his hand out of his coat pocket.

"I have been looking forward to one of these for years," Hiwatari said, at complete ease, one leg slung over the other. "Take off your coat and have a seat. I bought this chair just for your visit. What do you know of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?"

"Not much," Tala said, rebelliously keeping his coat on. He did take a seat, but didn't relax. "What do you know of the string of gruesome murders that have been plaguing this city?"

"Plenty. Do you know that Mozart wrote over 600 compositions in his lifetime, starting when he wrote his first composition at the age of 5? Unfair, isn't it? How some people are born geniuses while others are born stupid."

"I do not have time for this. I came here for answers."

"There's no reason why you can't indulge in both."

"I'm trying to solve a case and keep my enemies at bay, while travelling hundreds of miles to speak to suspects and sneaking out to track you down: if that's not multitasking then I don't know what is."

"There is a difference between handling a load, and having a load to handle. You are stuck in the latter category." Hiwatari still hadn't so much as glanced his way.

Below the audience was slowly getting quieter, but the lights were still on.

"They can't see us?" Tala asked, curious as to how Hiwatari had managed to set this all up unnoticed.

"One-way mirror," Hiwatari explained. "The owners rented this place out to a wealthy tenant who made it quite clear to them that he was never to be disturbed, so they never come up here."

"I'm guessing you're that tenant. How did you managed to move in here?"

"I hired moving people, through a few connections, though when they finished two days ago I rolled up my own sleeves and did some work myself."

"And no one has noticed you yet?"

Taking a sip and licking his lips appreciatively, Hiwatari smiled to himself.

"One person did catch me off guard yesterday, much to my embarrassment, but he won't be talking."

Tala looked at him sharply, but Hiwatari continued to favour his glass of wine and the orchestra below.

"What did you do to him?" Tala asked.

"I assure you he was perfectly alive when I left him. However, the 6 o'clock train is always on time so I suspect he was dead before I even returned home. It was on the news this morning. Didn't you catch it? It's been classified a typical suicide: a struggling man with financial problems, trying to make ends meet to support his wife and four children. I think his funeral will be on Monday, if you want to pay your last respects."

"We made a deal!"

"Which is strictly between you and I. This was between me and him. Don't worry. He is not dead because of you."

Which was of absolutely no comfort whatsoever.

"You killed a father."

"I ridded myself of an obstacle. I couldn't have him calling the police on me. I didn't know who he was when we crossed paths in the alley, but he knew who I was."

"And it does nothing to you, knowing that those children were waiting for their father to come home that night, only to be told by their grieving mother that he was dead."

Swirling his wine, Hiwatari didn't even flinch.

"People always cry for the little children, but all children grow up. Why mourn the deaths of young wolves?"

"Because they are still young," Tala answered bitterly. "They've done nothing to deserve any suffering."

"And what about the suffering they inflict on others once they've grown? Everyone who has ever wronged you, betrayed you, hurt you; they were all children, years ago. Our good friend McGregor was once a child. So was Boris, and the men who killed your father, and even Dox. Would you have mourned their suffering if you'd met them as kids, considering what they've become as adults?"

"Don't you fall into that category, Hiwatari? Wouldn't the world have been a better place if you'd been killed as a child, before you grew into who you are today? Is that what you're saying?"

"I am not the one who is so sensitive about the subject. This isn't about the man's children losing their father. You're more upset because it strongly reminds you of the loss of _your _father."

Below them, the piece ended and the audience gave an appreciative applause.

"Wine?" Hiwatari asked, pouring Tala a glass without even looking. "I'd forgotten how ripe Bordeaux wine tastes. I had to order if from abroad, but money rushes everything. Little has changed these past few years."

Stung by Hiwatari's sharp observation, Tala accepted the glass, but didn't drink from it.

"You promised me answers."

"I promised you only one thing, and that's not it," Hiwatari said, the fingers of his other hand swaying just above his arm rest, playing imaginary keys along with the piano's melody. "One day I will be down there, in the front row."

"You know that will never happen."

"Always the pessimist, Officer Ivanov."

"Always the realist, Hiwatari. You're not like those people down there. Even if you were to slip away, out of Japan, there wouldn't be a square meter of earth on this planet where your face and your crimes wouldn't be known. You forfeited your human rights years ago when you chose to disregard morality."

All this time, and Hiwatari had yet to even look at Tala once, but his words were as sharp as his eyes, even when spoken in the soft, unconcerned tone.

"And what does that say of you then? Is sneaking out of your home, behind your Captain's back, and sitting here with me while your law enforcing colleagues are working themselves to their wits end trying to find me. Are you really in the position to preach on morality?"

"I am doing this for the greater good. I am only here because I want to stop Dox, and keep an eye on you. Unlike you, I am aware that what I am doing is unethical and it has been gnawing away at my mind for days, but if this will bring me one step closer to stopping the murders then I will risk it. When was the last time you thought of anyone other than yourself, Hiwatari?"

Finally, his eyes shifted off the stage, onto Tala, wordlessly answering the question. Tala's back stiffened as the red eyes looked him over from head to toe, then back again. Hiwatari turned back to the recital, his point well made.

"What did you think of Brooklyn, just as a person?" he asked.

Tala allowed himself a good shiver, glad for once that the man had a tendency to switch topics at the drop of a hat.

"A bit too innocent for someone his age, and aware of it. It's easy to tell that he has serious issues; his mind appears to have twisted his reality and himself in order to better cope with it all. He thinks he's happy, because he can fool himself into believing that life's worth living that way."

"Well seen. Why do you see him as someone more than that?"

"He knows too much for someone claiming to know nothing about the outside world. I had my doubts until he let slip a few things that contradicted his initial claims."

Hiwatari's hand started to reach down and Tala immediately pulled his legs away, but the bluenette harmlessly picked up another bottle of wine. The man chuckled at Tala's skittishness.

"How can you be listening to a Mozart piano concerto and be so uptight? By the way, there is your answer."

"To which question?"

"You are searching for a person who is meticulous, intelligent and, most of all, a perfectionist. There is nothing you've found at the crimes scenes that he didn't want you to find, yet you found everything he wanted you to find. Dox has made no mistakes; has left no traces or clues behind at the most chaotic of crime scenes." He turned his head to Tala, a condescending smile on his face. "And now you believe that you've caught him because he let 'slip a few things'? A word of advise, Officer Ivanov: never underestimate a mastermind."

"Do you mean that Brooklyn wanted me to notice that he was messing with us, or is he just not our guy?"

"There are more elements at work here, more roles that are all needed to pull off this masterful performance. Who is Dox, Officer Ivanov? One man? Or maybe a woman—have you ever considered that? Or why not a group of people? You are looking at it too closely. Instead of staring intently at the flute player, you should sit back in your seat and take in the entire orchestra. Only then will you see all the elements at play."

"What few pieces we've managed to find is all we have to work on. How can we broaden our view, as you put it, if there's nothing else to see?"

"You've come across the answer before, but you weren't looking for it. Funny, the answer has been there from the very beginning, as it always is."

The piano music swelled, then died down, effortlessly going over from one piece to another.

"I came all the way out here for at least one good piece of information."

"I have given you many. If only you'd stop listening to what you want to hear you'd be well on your way to solving these crimes."

"That's not what you want," Tala was quick to remind. "You want me to fail."

"Correction: I want you to succeed. Remember, it isn't my will that will be your undoing, but your own realization that you shouldn't have put so much faith in a race who doesn't even hold any for itself. Once you see what I already know you will agree that I'm not the one with a corrupt sense of morality."

"You're nothing but a killer."

Hiwatari stood up, his posture non-threatening as he walked towards the door, talking as he went.

"Again, your view is too narrow to understand. Excuse me for a moment. I have an hourly schedule to uphold."

Hiwatari disappeared into the living room.

Tala stood as well. He looked down at the people enjoying the music with envy. Not because they could appreciate classical music, but because they could appreciate the night for what it was to them: a pleasant night out. They'd walk out at the end of the recital, happily discussing it, oblivious that above them had sat a man who wouldn't have killed them on the spot without a moment's regret.

As he walked back and forth before the glass, Tala noticed a table in the corner of the room. Sitting on top of a folded shirt was a metal nametag that read **S. Bunin**.

"Spencer," Tala said, feeling guilty that he had almost forgotten about the man.

He reached out to pick up the nametag, but the voice from the doorway made him pull back.

"The life he'd chosen to live wasn't fit for someone like him," Hiwatari said, watching Tala from the door.

"What did you do to him?"

"I sent him to a better place."

Tala jumped when arms suddenly encircled him. Warm air rushed past his ear as Hiwatari let out a small breath.

"You've done nothing but worry since coming here." He spun Tala around, trapping him against the table. Tala could smell the wine on his breath, but the bluenette was far from drunk. "You know what I want. The question is: do you know what _you_ want?"

"I want you to let me go."

Hiwatari did so. Tala got away from the table.

"If there's nothing else for you to tell me, I'm going home."

Hiwatari didn't stop him, and Tala quickly learned why when he tried to open the door. It had been locked.

"Open this door."

Hiwatari didn't move, his hands behind his back. He merely cocked his head to one side, contemplating, not Tala's demands, but Tala himself. It was a chilling reminder of the first time Tala saw him in the cell. It was the bluenette's one-step-ahead-of-you stance. Tala felt his heart skip several beats as he reached into his coat.

"I'm not playing along anymore! Open this … Shit!"

His gun was missing.

"Sloppy, officer, losing your only weapon like that," Hiwatari smirked, holding up said weapon, having swiped it with the ease of a seasoned pickpocket. "You wouldn't have shot me, anyway. You'd have drawn your weapon, threatened me, and then lost your nerves, just like the first time. Only now we're in my domain and I am not going anywhere. So where does that leave you? You can't escape. You can't defend yourself. Whatever will you do?"

"That's not for me to decide, is it?" Tala said, playing it cool. "You're in control now."

Hiwatari placed the gun on the round table between the chairs and started to close in, taking deliberately slow strides.

"Control? I don't think I can keep up this control for much longer."

"You have enough charges against you, Hiwatari," Tala said even as the other backed him right up against the door. "You want to add sexual assault to that list? I thought you would never lower yourself to Boris' level."

"Sexual assault," Hiwatari snickered, grabbing a fistful of red hair and bringing their faces close enough for his lips to brush Tala's lightly as he spoke. "It isn't sexual assault when both participants are willing."

"I am not willing!"

"No? Then you don't want me to do this?"

The hand in his hair let go and trailed down the side of his face, down to his neck, fingernails scraping the skin purposefully, fingers pushing away the collar of his shirt.

"No," Tala insisted, though his skin tingled beneath the exploratory fingers.

"And you don't want me to do this?"

Tala gasped when a tongue followed the red lines left behind by the nails, leaving a cool path down his neck. Hiwatari pulled back, eyes gleaming through his bangs as he leaned in, pressing their bodies together.

"You don't like this?"

"N-No," Tala shook his head. "I don't."

Hiwatari suddenly stepped back … and Tala gripped the front of the other's shirt, the sudden loss of contact hitting him like a bucket of cold water. He realized too late what he'd done.

"Obviously, you do," Hiwatari said, moving back in. His voice was softer, deeper, and Tala couldn't even hear himself think; Hiwatari's words were the only things registering in his mind. "You know what you want; you're just refusing to admit it to yourself. All you need is a little more ... motivation."

Tala turned his head, narrowly avoiding those demanding lips, but his breath left him with a shudder when his neck was teased once more. Instead of realizing that Hiwatari had backed off him, leaving room for him to pull away, he dumbly allowed himself to be led back to the centre of the room, neither reciprocating nor encouraging the bluenette, but caught up in the sensations that his traitorous body couldn't seem to get enough of.

"Hn," Hiwatari whispered in his ear. His voice, for once, wasn't perfectly collected; there was a soft panting that made his next words all the more primal. "I'm beginning to rethink letting you go home now."

He was falling backwards. Instinctively, he gripped the shoulders above him as they landed on the bed. Hiwatari was staring down at him, mouth slightly open, breathing heavily; he looked like a victorious hunter about to devour its prey.

"Your coat, Officer Ivanov," he said, undoing one button at a time.

"The only thing … you're convincing is my body," Tala said, needing a great deal of discipline not to react to his groin's want to rock against the firm thigh resting on top of it.

The tense moment was broken by a loud humming sound coming from Tala's pocket. Hiwatari searched the pockets without letting Tala up, and found the vibrating cell phone phone.

"Well, well. It's our Captain," he said, checking the caller ID. "Calling to make sure you're behaving yourself."

"Put it down," Tala said, reaching for it but Hiwatari held it out of his reach.

"Should I tell him to call back later?" Hiwatari asked, thumb on the green answer button.

Tala squeezed his eyes shut. The persistent humming grated at his ears and mind.

"Please, put it down."

"Answer the phone, officer, or I will," Hiwatari said, a more sinister side to his threat now. "I will give it to you, if you promise to answer it. If you don't, I'll just have to call him back for you. Don't you want to talk to your boyfriend?"

Tala knew what Hiwatari really meant: Can you talk to your boyfriend with me right on top of you?

Raising a shaking hand, Tala took the phone. Hiwatari remained motionless, watching as Tala pressed the green button and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey," he managed to say as casually as possible.

"_Am I interrupting your exercise routine?"_ Bryan asked. _"You sound a bit out of breath."_

Bryan needed to speak louder than usual because there was a lot of noise in the background. Tala mentally begged his lover to lower his voice (though Bryan had no other choice if he wanted to be heard); the red eyes narrowed at the sound of the Captain's voice.

"Do I? I'm … " He squirmed when Hiwatari leaned down, holding himself up on his elbows, his lips close to Tala's neck. He fixed his eyes on the dark canopy above them, trying to forget where he was, focusing all his attention on the voice on the other end of the line. "I'm … out walking Wolborg."

He felt the lips against his neck curl into a grin and nearly bit open his lip when Hiwatari found the sensitive bundle of nerves below his jaw. He pushed at the other's chest with one hand but the man couldn't be moved that easily. Bryan continued talking, oblivious to what was happening.

"_Walking? I hope you brought an umbrella with you because it's supposed to rain tonight."_

"I'll return home soon," Tala said, almost in a whisper, slightly arching his back when Hiwatari shifted above him, fully settling between his legs. "Wolborg's just being very persistent about getting his way."

Tala had to fake a few coughs to disguise Hiwatari's chuckles. When Hiwatari reached out to take the phone Tala grabbed his hand, shaking his head pleadingly. Instead, the bluenette took hold of the hand on his and kissed it on the knuckles, a gesture that would have been romantic if not for the possessive force with which Hiwatari was pinning him down. Still, Tala blushed at the gentle act, watching as the bluenette kissed his wrist, rubbing his fingers.

"_Hey, the conference is about to start. If you're quick you can catch it on television."_ There was an authentic cough. _"Sorry. I think I caught something down here. Do we have cough syrup at home, or do I need to pick some up at an all-night pharmacy?"_

"Mh-hm," was all Tala could say; he didn't dare say anything else as a hand was creeping up under his shirt, causing the fine hairs on his lower stomach to stand on end.

"_Mh-hm, as in yes, we have some at home? Or mh-hm as in yes, I need to pick some up?"_

"The second one. Bryan, I—STOP!" he yelped when the zipper of his pants was pulled down in one swift yank.

"_What happened?!"_

"N-Nothing. Wolborg just ... dashed out into the street after something," Tala said into the phone with one breath, glaring helplessly at Hiwatari, who quirked a brow, one hand down the front of Tala's pants, teasing him through his underwear. "I think it's time I turned back for home."

"_Yeah, before he gets you two killed."_

Tala couldn't stop staring as the bluenette unbutton his own shirt. The strong chest and abs glistened with a thin layer of sweat. Leaving his shirt open without taking it off, Hiwatari started to do the same to Tala's.

"_Well, don't want to keep you away from your fun. Call you later. Bye."_

"Good bye…" He boldly stared Hiwatari straight in the eyes. "Love you, Bryan."

Hiwatari didn't blink, but the crimson eyes gleamed when Bryan answered.

"_Love you too, Tala."_

Closing the phone, Tala kept his eyes averted.

"I'm leaving," he said. Hiwatari pulled away but took hold of his hips, keeping their lower bodies in firm contact. "Let go."

"Say it like you mean it, and I will."

Tala swallowed and tried again, trying to find the conviction needed to get himself off the bed.

"Let me go," he said, but any authority was lost when Hiwatari rocked against him. His hands, which had been trying to pry Hiwatari's hands off his waist, fell down to grip the sheets. "S-Stop it … "

"I would if you wanted me to," Hiwatari teased, leaning in. The grey bangs brushed Tala's face, making his eyes flutter. "Are you really that eager to get home to dear Bryan? Fight me then, if you're that faithful to the Captain. Break free, if you loath my touch so much."

Tala's body was too weak to do anything but feel.

"I don't want this. I know I don't want this. Don't do this to me," he said. "Not now."

"Not now? Then when?" Hiwatari asked, licking Tala's quivering lower lip. Once again, he started to slip Tala's pants down. "Because right now, you're aching for more; curious to feel what I can give you. Do you want to know what I want to do to you?"

Sweat dripped from the wet bangs onto his face and neck. Their clothes were damp, bare chest sticking together in the heat that hung in the air between them.

"Do you want to know what I've been wanting to do to you ever since I met you?"

Tala shook his head. Hiwatari kept talking, voice so low Tala wasn't even sure he was hearing him correctly as fingers hooked in the waistband of his underwear.

"What I _will_ do to you, again … and again … and again … "

"I … can't … I … I … "

A finger brushed over the tight curls beneath the band of his underwear, then traced upwards, over his hip, pinching the soft skin.

"You want to know," Hiwatari said.

" … _I'm sorry, Tala … "_ Bryan's voice sounded distant.

"You want me to do you the way no one has ever done before," Hiwatari told him, his hand gripping a cheek, fingers going further inwards.

" … _I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for having done that to you … "_

"Harder, and rougher … "

" … I … I … " He felt near delirious with emotions. Three words, spoken to only him, in his mind, broke through to him.

"_Love you … Tala … "_

"Stop it!" Tala shouted. "Kai, don't do this, please!"

The sound of his own name, yelled so frightfully, made Hiwatari look up. Reaching out, he wiped away a wet trail of tears from Tala's face and stared at the moisture on his thumb. Confirming that his tears and distress were genuine, Hiwatari pushed himself off Tala, kneeling on the bed beside him as the redhead wearily sat up. Tala's shoulders trembled violently as he placed a hand over his mouth, in shock of what had almost happened. His reaction left them both silent for a minute or two. As the rest of the world faded back into being around them so did the music of a flute playing its solo piece.

Tala felt drained, having used every ounce of will power to break the spell he'd been under. When he felt the mattress shift behind him he flinched, fearing that he wouldn't be able to resist another come on. Rather than pushing him back down and completely stripping him, though, Hiwatari sat behind him, legs on either side of him. One hand pulled him back against the bluenette while the other moved down and pulled shut his zipper.

"You really thought I would do it," Hiwatari said, his voice once more confident and collected. "You believed that I would force myself onto you, rip into you like a low-life rapist."

"Can you blame me?" Tala asked, wiping his eyes dry. "After what Boris almost did to me ... After what you told me you wanted to do to me? You still believe you'll have me, one way or the other."

"I will," Hiwatari said, nuzzling his neck. "But what I want is not just your body, Officer Ivanov. I could have had you right here on this bed, and you wouldn't have been able to stop me. You know it's true: if I wanted, I could take you, any time, any place."

"Leave it."

"What did I promise you, Officer Ivanov?"

"You told me that there was no promise of you behaving tonight."

"No." The hand cupped Tala between the legs, making his breath hitch. "I'm talking about the day we met, after the interview, when I called you back after Dunga's attack."

"You promised you'd make me happy. But this is not the kind of happiness I want. I already have this happiness in my life."

"Hn," Hiwatari said, resting his head on Tala's shoulder as he ran a hand up and down his stomach.

"Please, don't go after Bryan."

The arm around his waist tightened, but he didn't fight when the collar of his shirt was pulled away. Knowing what was coming, he dug his nails into the other's thighs when the bluenette latched on to the side of his neck, sucking the skin between his teeth and biting down, just barely leaving the skin intact.

"The less said about him," Hiwatari said, licking the bite mark, "the better. Understood?"

Tala nodded. When he felt Hiwatari shift behind him he accordingly stood. The bedroom door was still locked, though. Having collected something from the chair, Hiwatari was back, easing Tala up against the door as he slipped something into his pocket.

"Don't forget your gun."

"What do I do now?" Tala asked. "About the case?"

Hiwatari tilted his head to one side, debating whether or not he'd earned some advice.

"The next time you walk past a newsstand, take a look around and remember what comes before fall."

Tala didn't even argue for elaboration.

"You know the consequences if you give away my location."

Tala nodded.

"Always call before you come."

"I don't think it's necessary for me to have to come back here," Tala said quickly, adjusting his clothes. "We can talk just over the phone."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Hiwatari worked their lips together, holding Tala still by the back of his head. The strong tint of wine was still on his tongue as it stroked Tala's. He didn't kiss back, but that didn't matter to the other, who appeared to enjoy his complete docility.

"If not for my promise, I wouldn't let you out of this room. But next time, Officer Ivanov, I won't stop," he whispered against Tala's sensitive mouth. "The next time I get you in my bed, I won't let you up until I've tasted and felt every inch of you. Next time, I won't have to stop because you'll be begging me to continue, to go harder, to be rougher. You will be shouting my name for a whole different reason. _That_ is another promise."

There was a click as Hiwatari unlocked the door.

"I'm looking forward to your next visit," Hiwatari said before finally stepping away, giving Tala space to breathe again.

Licking his lips, Tala watched the man return to his seat to watch the rest of the recital. Feeling unsteady on his feet, he pushed away from the door and opened it, pausing when the smooth voice said from the oversized chair, "Drive carefully, Officer Ivanov."

Tala closed the door behind him without a word, buttoning up his shirt and coat as he staggered to the door, mind spinning and legs moving automatically. It was quiet in the rest of the apartment. His neck burned and his lips tingles and the taste of expensive Bordeaux wine still on his tongue. He could still feel the hands all over his skin.

" … _Next time … I won't stop … "_

Tala quickened his steps.

" … _Next time … you will be shouting my name … "_

He almost made a lunge for the front door.

" … _Love you too, Tala … "_

"I love you, Bryan," he said under his breath as he hurried down the old wooden stairs. "I love you. Only you. We'll get Dox, we'll put Hiwatari back behind bars, and then it will just be you and me."

He stumbled out of the building and into the alley, swearing to never set foot inside the apartment ever again.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 22**__**nd**__**, 2004**_

_**Time: 20.49**_

Bryan's car wasn't in the driveway. As Tala was getting out of his he felt one of the phones in his pocket go off. He fished around until he found the trembling device and was relieved to see that it wasn't Hiwatari's.

"Hello?"

"_You know, one day I swear you're going to die on me over the phone,"_ Michael said. _"Shit, man, you sound like … well, shit."_

"Thanks," he said, walking up towards the front door. The moon reflected in the front windows, a bluish dot before the beige curtains. "Where are you?"

"_Still at the press conference, though I'm currently outside. You?"_

"I had to run out for something. I just got home."

"_You should turn on the tube. It's pretty interesting. I snuck out to call you because the boss wanted me to tell you that he'll be coming home after the conference after all, instead of staying at the office."_

"Is he? That's great. He's going to work himself into the ground one of these days."

"_He's a tough bastard. Gotta respect that. He's holding his own pretty good in there, but the questions are getting tougher. How's it going for you? Working at home, I mean."_

"I haven't gotten much done yet," Tala said evasively, closing the door behind him and locking it; Bryan had his own set of keys.

"_Anything you wanna run by me? I'm not that eager to go back in there just yet."_

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Tala leaned back against the door and rubbed the tender bruise on his neck. He could still smell the wine on him and his shirt stunk of sweat. He was going to need a bath and something to cover up the marks on his neck.

'How am I going to hide them from Bryan?' he wondered to himself. 'Fuck you, Hiwatari!'

"I think we should rethink Brooklyn as a suspect," he said, hanging up his coat and slipping off his shoes. He picked up the mail on the doormat. "Call it a hunch, but he might not be our guy after all. If it's alright with you I want to pass by tomorrow to go over a few files."

"_It's a date. Make sure to tell the boss. Don't want him to find out the hard way that you're sneaking off with guys behind his back, do you?"_ Michael laughed.

Tala couldn't even find it in him to give a false chuckle at the typical Michael-esque joke. Instead, he took a deep breath, pressing the palm of his hand against his brow. His cheeks burned as he remember how he'd been pinned to the king sized bed; how he'd reacted to the forbidden touches.

"No, no I don't. What's this Bryan told me about your fist being acquainted with Johnny's face?" he asked, changing subject. "You must have been wanting to do that for weeks."

"_Dude, I'm not that shallow … I've been itching to sock him for _years_! I ain't religious, but let's just say that God answered my prayers when Johnny swaggered into the gym and actually challenged me in the ring. He's getting nowhere with the case so he's been taking it out on everyone. I must have been grinning like a stoned slacker when he hopped into the ring!"_

"You must have felt like you were on a wicked trip," Tala said, thinking of nothing else but Michael's story. It worked to keep him calm, for now.

Holding the phone to his ear with one shoulder, he shifted through the mail as he listen to a step-for-step, punch-for-punch replay of the match that would go down in law enforcement infamy. Among the bills and fliers was, to his bemusement, a greeting card with a white puppy on the cover. It was balancing a heart on its pink nose with _**I woof you**_ printed above it. Tala's smile faded, however, when he flipped the card over to find, spelled in newspaper clippings, _**to death**_.

" … _and then McBitchy tried to pull a fast one on me but I swung around and … "_

The weight he'd felt in his stomach when he'd left the house earlier returned.

" … _little punk has a nasty left hook but I floored him. Got up fast enough, but I'm not going to give him credit for that … "_

The front drapes were drawn.

" … _landed right on his nose! Dude, you should have heard the crowd around us! And then … "_

He'd left the drapes open. He knew that because he vividly recalled Wolborg watching through the front windows as he drove off.

" … _and you know what I said then?"_

"Wolborg?" he called.

"_Wolborg? No, that's not where I told him to stick it."_

He was alone in the hall. Nothing moved.

"_You busy or something? You want me to call you back at a better time?"_

"Wolborg?" Tala tried again, stepping into the dark living room.

"_What's going on over there?"_

His hand found the light switch. Light flooded the room.

"_Tala? You there?"_

The phone landed on the rug with a wet squish.

"_Yo!"_ Michael's voice called up to him.

The rug was soaked.

"_What was that?_

The rug was soaked with blood.

"_Can you hear me?"_ Michael's worried voice called out over the phone.

Blood everywhere, splattered against the walls, up till the ceiling.

"_Tala, what's wrong?"_

Blood was smeared across the floor.

"_Tala?"_

Blood had pooled on the carpet.

"_Tala?!"_

So much blood … and loose tuffs of fur … and … there beneath the window …

"_Tala!"_

The only scream Tala heard was his own.

"WOLBORG!"

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	17. January 23

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Sunday, January 23, 2004**_

_**Time: 03.13**_

He hadn't noticed that his leg was shaking until the hand touched his knee, urging it to keep still. He stared at the hand with dull eyes, needing a moment or two to understand the comforting gesture before covering the hand with his own. Dried blood, which had stubbornly refused to be wiped away, made the contact sticky, but Bryan only squeezed his hand tighter.

Tala had been in the waiting room for almost an hour by the time Bryan arrived, some of the worry on his face vanishing upon finding the redhead unharmed, though the blood on Tala's clothes and the distraught look in his eyes had brought the Captain right over to him, wrapping his arms around him. Bryan had coaxed him to sit down while they waited for any news. Someone had come in to offer them something to drink. When asked about the situation she could give them nothing more than a hopeful smile and a promise that, regardless the outcome, the vet on duty was trying every trick in the book, and was determined to succeed.

Another hour later, the kindly woman had returned with more hot coffee and some sandwiches.

"That it's taking this long can be a good sign," Bryan said. "He's hanging in there. Now that he's being helped, he'll pull through."

Something in Tala refused to be comforted that easily.

"You weren't there. You didn't see what I saw in the living room."

"No, I didn't," Bryan admitted, resting his head back against the wall behind him. "I don't even want to picture it."

Tearing at the end of his scarf, Tala wanted to move in closer but blood red eyes haunted him. And, somehow, he was afraid that Bryan would see them too. Bryan was taking the distance between them in stride, thinking that Tala was just too worried about Wolborg.

'I can't even properly fear for my dog's life thanks to you, Hiwatari!' Tala thought bitterly.

"Mr Ivanov," a voice said from the doorway.

The veterinarian surgeon was a small, doll-like woman with pink hair and a mousey voice. The sleeves and front of her white coat was smeared red. She looked up from her clipboard and held a hand out to Bryan.

"Dr Mathilda Barthez," she introduced herself to the new face. "Are you the other owner?"

"Bryan Balcov," Bryan greeted, shaking her hand. "I am, in a way."

"And this incident took place in your home?"

"Yes."

"Have the police been notified yet?"

Bryan pulled his badge out from his pocket.

"Captain Balcov," he clarified. "An investigation is already underway."

"Oh, I see," she nodded, writing it down. "I think I've seen you before on television. You were on earlier this evening, weren't you??"

"Yeah."

Tala, standing next to Bryan, shifted impatiently. The only thing he wanted to talk about was Wolborg so, spurred by anxiety, he abruptly cut in.

"How is he?"

Dr Barthez looked abashed.

"Ah, right. I'm sorry for making you wait, Mr Ivanov," she said, brushing wispy bangs. "Would you like to sit down or—"

"Is he alive or not?"

"Alive, yes. We've cleaned, disinfected and stitched the wounds. He hasn't shown significant signs of recovery yet, but his health hasn't continued to deteriorate so, for now, we're taking that as a good thing."

"But _will_ he recover?" Tala asked, still not satisfied.

She looked nervous, even threatened. Tala would have rephrased his words, and softened his tone, under any other circumstance. Now he looked down on her, unyielding.

"I wouldn't have expected any dog to make it this far," was all she could say. "Wolborg is a very strong dog, but … "

"Anything can happen," Bryan filled in, kind enough to not glare at her.

"Anything can go wrong, is what you're trying to say, isn't it?"

"Or it can get better," Bryan argued, having more faith in her medical skills than Tala did. "What kind of wounds are we talking about here, anyway?"

"Stab wounds," Dr Barthez said, tucking her short hair behind her ears. "Seventeen in total. He's lost a lot of blood, and is still in shock. We've given him a blood transfusion and he's currently on fluids."

"And the fur? Why was there so much fur on the floor?"

"His coat has empty patches in it; perhaps torn out during the confrontation."

Tala began pacing, running both hands through his hair, picturing the attack. Picturing Wolborg cornered in an empty living room; trying to fend off his attacker as the weapon came down again and again; crawling to the window in defeat, bleeding profusely and in torturous pain.

"…You were very lucky," Dr Barthez said, trying to look on the brighter side. "It could have been either of you instead."

"Very lucky?" Tala glared back at her, needing a moment to collect himself before saying, "Lucky that Wolborg took the brunt for us? At least we would have been able to defend ourselves. He didn't stand a chance!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She turned to Bryan, stuck.

"Maybe it'd be better if we just leave," Bryan said. "We need some time to come to grips with everything. We'll call in regularly to check up on his progress."

"Yes, sir," she said, flipping through her papers to make sure she had their contact information. "And we'll do our total best, I promise."

Bryan gave the flustered woman an apologetic smile, nodded their farewells, and took Tala by the arm.

The sterile halls smelled of wet dogs and cleaning solution. Their shoes scoffed against the speckled brown and green floor and, despite the silence, neither of them took advantage of it to speak their minds. It was drizzling outside and neither of them had brought an umbrella along. Bryan followed him to his car. Quickly opening the door, Tala got in and said nothing when Bryan slid into the passenger seat.

"Well?" Bryan instigated, beads of water clinging to his short hair.

Tala leaned over and opened the glove compartment to reveal the postcard.

"This is all I know about it," he said as Bryan read the morbid message. "This is the only warning I received. I turned on the living rooms lights and ... Wolborg was just lying there."

Bryan held up the wrinkled card, studying the creases and blood that made it almost unreadable.

"It's evidence. You shouldn't have handled it so roughly."

"Well, shame on me," Tala said acidly, staring out his side window at the building. "Damn my lack of judgment. I should have left Wolborg to bleed to death while I laminated the evidence and placed it in a security safe in order to preserve it. Sorry, I should have known better than to put the well-being of my pet before that of a postcard."

" … Tala, where were you when this was happening?"

His dour mood quickly turned to guilt.

"I had to run out for something," he said, less snappish.

"You're lying," Bryan said after giving him one long, hard stare.

"Irrelevant."

"Wolborg was attacked and left for dead in my house, while you were supposed to be there with him. The fact that you weren't where you were supposed to be has everything to do with it."

"Are you blaming me?" Tala asked. He snatched away the postcard and held it up. "This was planned! This would have happened whether I was there or not! Where I was doesn't matter!"

"Then why won't you just tell me?"

"I can't believe this." Tala rested his head in his palm, elbow resting on the door. "I can't believe you're doing this to me at a time like this. Just drop it, please."

"Why can't you say it…?" Bryan asked. He placed a hand on Tala's thigh. "Please, tell me."

He couldn't tell the truth. He absolutely couldn't. It was dangerous, stupid and unethical, but his dealings with Hiwatari was the only lead he had. He couldn't put their uneasy alliance in jeopardy.

"I need to be alone."

"You still don't trust me, do you? Why not?"

Tala couldn't answer. Bryan, after a long minute, gave up. He leaned in for a kiss, but Tala turned his head. Visibly hurt, Bryan backed off, giving him an awkward pat on the arm, and got out. Tala watched in the rear view mirror as Bryan disappear into the misty rain.

"Because I love you too fucking much," he whispered, alone. "Because I don't want you to get hurt."

He buckled up and started the engine. Pulling out of the park space, he slowly drove out of the parking lot, no specific destination in mind.

* * *

_**Sunday, January 23, 2004**_

_**Time: 11.44**_

He ended up at headquarters and after a quick shower and a change of clothes from his locker, he went straight to his office, where he sat for a long time, just staring at the wall.

He had the tried writing, reading, analyzing, puzzling, sketching and theorizing. He had listened to his old recordings, and gone over all his notes, from the detailed to the random scribbles. He'd made numerous trips for coffee, purposefully choosing to go all the way downstairs to the canteen instead of taking advantage of the smaller break room on the same floor. He had spoken to anyone who took the time to greet him. Everyone had something to say, since tomorrow would be Monday; Dox's fourth murder, if he got his way.

"Not looking so pretty this morning."

Not even the large bandage across Johnny's bruised nose bridge could bring a smile to Tala's face. He rubbed his eyes, already annoyed just by the mightier-than-thou smirk.

"In fact, you look like shit," Johnny said, closing the door behind him with his foot. He was carrying a backpack while wearing a suit. "I've just come from a meeting with some of the higher-ups, who I don't have to blow to impress. They're satisfied with my work so far. How are you getting along?"

"Step by step," Tala answered, not given the other man much thought: his mind was cluttered as it was.

"Are you? Because I heard that your dog got attacked last night."

"McGregor, if you here for a fight, forget it."

Johnny held up his hands with an innocent expression.

"I'm just repeating what I've heard. If it means anything, I like animals, so I'm actually kinda pissed off that someone would do that to a dog. But speaking of aggression, you yourself aren't as big a pushover as I thought you were. At least, not when you were a kid."

At last, the issue of Hiwatari left his mind. Tala looked up at the grinning Scotsman. He didn't bother dancing around the subject: they both knew what this was about.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"I like to do my work thoroughly," Johnny said. He pulled out a file from his backpack. "That American trash actually did me a favour. See, because of this injury I've got to take it easy from my doctor, so I have the time to learn more about some of the people working here. I decided to start with you."

"Where did you get those?" Tala asked sharply, staring at the papers as Johnny idly leafed through them.

"Like I said, research."

"You mean invasion of privacy."

"Hey, I can't work if I don't know more about my colleagues. Ah, don't be like that, Ivanov. It's not like I'm the bad guy or anything. After all, we're both law enforcers, so doesn't that almost make us brothers?"

"Cain and Abel comes to mind."

Sitting on the edge of Tala's desk, Johnny chuckled.

"Hurtful, rookie. I'm only trying to lend a helping hand here. After all, now that I know how shitty your childhood was, I understand why you're such a little ass kisser. Here, let me remind you. Let's see … "

Even if he were to wrestled the file from the bastard, Johnny had most likely already memorized the whole thing, greedily making a list of all the little facts he could now throw back in Tala's face the next time they squared off. The only thing he could do was not give the other the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. Tala returned to his own papers.

"Oh, here's a good one," Johnny said. "This is one goes way back. It says here that, after your father was shot to death in the forest, you were taken to live with your father's brother, but ended up in an orphanage after you tried running away a few times. Didn't you know how dangerous it is for a young kid to be out on his own?"

"Seeing as you were still up in the highlands picking food out of your teeth with a femur, I had nothing to worry about."

"Couldn't find any official reports on child abuse," Johnny continued, talking right through his snide reply, "but your uncle had a history of alcohol abuse. You weren't one of those poor, misused and abused adopted kids, were you, Ivanov? That would explain your need to latch onto someone whose strong and independent and commanding, like, say, Balcov. Or maybe I'm just reading too much into this."

Tala said nothing.

"So, now you were in some orphanage way up north, and you got into trouble there too. You were sent to a therapist after breaking another boy's arm. He must have done something really naughty to set you off. Probably was a lot easier fighting him off than it was your uncle—again, I'm just speaking hypothetically here."

Standing, Tala snatched the file from the other's hand and slammed it onto his desk.

"I _don't_ need to be reminded of my own past. Exactly what do you think you can get out of this, McGregor?"

No doubt, it was something of a personal triumph for Johnny to have something else to pester Tala with, but Johnny wouldn't just stick to teasing behind closed doors.

"See, I might have to include these files with the rest of my work the next time I present them during a meeting; if they're going to have to be listening to your theories they're entitled to know your history too."

"First of all, we are not working together—"

"Just want to help put Dox behind bars."

Tala scoffed and stepped away, not wanting to even be this close to the man. He walked over to the windows.

"You don't give a shit about Dox. All you're after is another shot at Hiwatari."

"That's just some unfinished business."

"Unfinished? You want him to remove the rest of your hand?"

Johnny's disfigured hand tightened into a fist, but he made no retort. Instead, he came to stand right next to Tala, leaning with his back against the glass.

"You know where he is," he said plainly.

Tala tensed.

"No," he lied a bit too quickly.

"I know about you visiting him in the loony house. I read the transcripts you handed in to the department of your conversations. Everyone else was too thick to notice it, but it's very obvious to me that Hiwatari took an instant liking to you. Only Hiwatari doesn't become interested: he becomes obsessed. And when Hiwatari becomes obsessed with something he doesn't stop until he has it."

" … _I always get my way … "_

"You clearly know everything about him. The two of you would make a good couple," Tala bit back, hoping that Johnny would mistake his reddening cheeks for anger. "Too bad things didn't work out between you."

Johnny chuckled again, shaking his head in a pitying manner.

"You think you're so clever."

He held up his hand, the stump of what had once been his index finger pointed in Tala's face.

"Parker told ya what happened, I bet. Told you that I was a bloody mess when they pulled me out of that basement, unconscious, hardly any blood left in me, missing my finger. It was no secret that Hiwatari would have carved me down to the bone if he hadn't been caught. Only thing is … " He closed in, forcing Tala to back up against the glass. "The thing that no one knows, not even the Yankee, is that that hadn't been the first time I came face to face with Hiwatari."

Tala blinked, struggling to keep his face otherwise guiltless, though he allowed himself a surprised look.

"What?"

"You thought it was hate at first sight, didn't you? You thought that Hiwatari just pounced on me the first chance he got."

Johnny was whispering, though the door was closed and they were the only two in there. He was keeping his voice soft, almost talking to himself, except he was staring Tala right in the eyes, searching for condemning evidence that whatever he said might strike a chord of familiarity.

"You had contact with him before the arrest?" Tala asked.

"Let's just say that he found me 'interesting'. He told me, to my face, that I was a worthy rival. Did he ever tell you that, when you visited him? Did he treat you like and equal, or are you just a pretty little thing he wants to own?"

" … _I have imagined ravaging you … "_

Tala pushed away from the window. A hand was placed on his shoulder, but Johnny didn't use any force keeping him there. It was his words that rooted Tala to the ground.

"I know his tricks. I know his strengths. I know the things he says and the things he does. I know his mind's working. And I know that, now that he's free to go where he wants, he won't be leaving you alone until you give him what he wants."

It took all of Tala's acting talents to keep a straight face when he answered.

"Do you seriously think that if I knew where Hiwatari was, I'd keep it from the force? From the Captain?"

"If he hasn't contacted you yet, then he will soon."

"He won't, period. I was just some light entertainment for him. Now that he's free, I'm the least interesting thing to him, I'm sure."

The hand on his shoulder drifted up, over his neck, over the sensitive skin that he'd done his best to hide by wearing a turtleneck, up to his cheek.

"I thought I understood Hiwatari," Johnny said, again talking more to himself than to Tala, his thoughts turned inwards. "But I don't get what he sees in someone like you. You're far below his level of intellect. Maybe it's because you're both from Russia ... but he doesn't give a shit about Balcov. I thought him above falling for a pretty face."

Tala suddenly did not want the other man so close to him. Before he could demand the other to step back, Johnny came forward, bringing them chest-to-chest. He was too close to punch. Tala considered head butting, but the look on Johnny's face was not malicious; he looked curious, studying Tala.

"I don't get it at all," Johnny muttered. In his voice, beneath the confusion, was the desire to know, and, even further beneath, a hint of envy. "Balcov … Parker … Hiwatari … What the fuck's so special about you that has them so captivated? You show up, a rookie—no, a teacher's pet, and you have everyone in this place after you, wanting you … "

The thought, the mere notion of being kissed by Johnny McGregor had never once occurred to Tala. He was so focused on the closeness of the red-violet eyes that it took him several seconds to realize that the other man's lips were pressed tightly against his. There was nothing lustful about the kiss; the highlander was not driven by need. After a few motionless minutes, he broke the contact.

"Nothing special," he concluded with some smug confirmation, wiping his mouth as if he'd just licked a toilet seat. "I suppose it's enough to keep Balcov satisfied."

His head snapped back as Tala struck him across the face with the back of his fist. Johnny staggered, his healing nose bleeding anew. Wiping his bloody upper lip, he sniggered at Tala's outraged look.

"Don't be offended. That was a compliment."

"If I were to tell Bryan about this you'd be on the first flight back to the UK."

"If you're going to be reporting sexual misconduct then don't forget to mention Hiwatari."

"I told yo—"

"Balcov didn't give you that little love bite on your neck."

Tala's hand grabbed at his neck: the fabric had been pulled down during the kiss. Even with a bloody face, McGregor beamed.

"I recognize Hiwatari's work all too well."

"You're imagining things. What Bryan and I do in our free time is none of your business."

Johnny was right. Johnny _knew_ he was right. The man was a lot of things, but not a fool. It was over. Johnny was going to ruin everything. He was going to tell everyone. Word would spread like wild fire that the import student had been meeting in secret with Kai Hiwatari. It would reach the media, be broadcasted on the news networks, and Hiwatari would find out that Tala had broken their promise, and then they 'd have a bloodbath on their hands.

"Yeah, perhaps you're right," Johnny said unexpectedly. "Pretty farfetched, thinking it was Hiwatari. Without any solid evidence, I can't prove any of this. And I have better things to do than to track down all your clients. Better get a doctor to look at my nose again."

Never. No way. There was no way Johnny was going to let this go just like that.

"Don't you play with me," Tala sneered, suspicious and anxious.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Johnny said, shrugging. "You don't want any trouble, do you? I'm just trying to be the bigger man here."

It couldn't be that simple. Johnny was up to something. Why would he wait? Why not threaten him, blackmail him into revealing Hiwatari's hide-out? What was Johnny after?

A knock, followed by the door opening and familiar head of unruly red hair poked around the corner.

"Tala? I heard about Wolborg … " Michael raised a brow at Johnny. "Hey, McGregor, you've got a little something on your lip."

"Do I?" Johnny said, dabbing at the drying blood with a hand. "Then I'd better get it looked at. Thanks for the concern, Michael."

Michael looked sceptical at the unusually amiable response.

"Keep up the good work, Ivanov," Johnny said, and behind Michael's back he shot Tala a smile that drove the spike of distrust even deeper in Tala's heart.

"You socked him, didn't you?" Michael laughed when they were alone. "About time—Hey, where ya going?"

"Out," said Tala, pulling on his jacket. "To get some breakfast."

"You mean lunch. But I've got something you might want to look at," Michael said, waving a bunch of papers.

"It'll have to wait."

"But—"

"I said it'll have to wait," Tala snapped.

"Okay, okay! Damn, didn't know you got this cranky on an empty stomach."

"Whatever. Later."

He left Michael and his important information behind in the office. Once more, walking away was the easiest way to deal with his problems. A part of him knew, however, that he couldn't run forever. Sooner or later, he'd run into a dead end.

* * *

_**Sunday, January 23, 2004**_

_**Time: 12.22**_

DOX STILL AT LARGE!

POLICE STILL SEARCHING FOR HIWATARI!

LEGENDARY SLAYER VS. CONTEMPORARY BUTCHER: HIWATARI VS. DOX?

ARE WE TO BLAME FOR RAMPANT MURDERS?

EXPERTS BLAME MURDERS ON VIDEO GAMES!

The headlines screamed at him from every shelf, rack and stack. Since there were no captured images of Dox, photos of Hiwatari were plastered all over the front pages, regardless of the actual headlines. The murders has created a frenzy in the media outlets. Only, because the authorities weren't letting anything slip, they had little to go on, leaving them to make up theories and draw conclusions that would draw in the readers and terrify the public even more.

Picking up the closest newspaper, Tala paged through it. Inside were stories of sorrow, disaster and deceit that would have made the front page were it not for Dox and Hiwatari's capturing the public's morbid fascination.

CABINET MEMBER ACCUSED OF MOLESTING 11 YEAR OLD NEPHEW

MAN CONVICTED IN WIFE'S KILLING

DRUNK DRIVER KILLS 5, SELF

TODDLER STILL MISSING

ROBBER KILLS 1, INJURES 10

BANK FILES FOR BANKRUPCY, FRAUD SUSPECTED

MODEL DIES FROM ANOREXIA

YOUTH CRIME RATE RISING

" … _Even if you were to round up every murderer; every child-molester; every rapist; every wife beater; every abusive parent; every con-artist; every drug-dealer; every thief; every fraud; every racist; every terrorist; every politician: it would change nothing __… __as long as there are humans, crime will prevail, because for every police officer who tries to do good, there are dozens of average Joe's who have it in their genetic makeup to do bad__ … "_

'There is still some good left in this world. It's worth something.'

"Detective Ivanov?"

Standing right next to him was a small woman with pink hair tied back in a long ponytail.

"Miss Ginko," Tala greeted before noticing she was not alone.

A tanned man with fierce eyes and a dark mane of black hair, dressed in somewhat old fashion clothes, stood next to Mariah, hands full with shopping bags. Tala supposed that standing next to small, feminine Mariah made him look more feral than he probably was, but there was something about him that was still bestial.

"Oh, this is Lee, my fiancé," Mariah said, shifting the stack of magazines in her arms. "Lee, this is the nice detective we told you about."

"Hey," was all Lee had to say to Tala, sounding more like he'd just growled at him.

"Finally back home after all that travelling?" Tala asked, trying to make small talk, but the man wasn't cooperating.

"I'll see you in the restaurant," he told Mariah, taking her bags for her.

Mariah offered her cheek for a kiss, which he obliged with surprising gentleness.

"Be careful, detective," Lee said as he passed Tala, who suspected that the words were not meant for Mariah's ears.

"Nice meeting you," Tala said.

"Yeah … You'll have to forgive him," Mariah said sheepishly, watching her fiancé prowl off. "He's not a people-person, especially if the people are police officers. Like Kevin, he doesn't trust the law after what happened. He's normally more friendly, but he's been going through a rough time lately."

"Trouble at work?"

Tala could relate to that. Fucking McGregor …

"Never. We're getting married, but his job is the biggest love of his life," Mariah said as she paid for her magazines. "He pretty much got his dream job as a veterinarian."

Tala blanked out for a moment, picturing Wolborg at his own vet, strung up with IV fluids and strapped down to protect him from ripping the stitches and staples that covered him like ticks.

"He works with exotics animals," Mariah continued, straightening the broad belt around her waist. "Big cats, mostly. But…I don't know. He's been a bit more moody these past couple of weeks. Of course, what happened to Kevin and Gary hurt him too, but he's not the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve and—Oh, never mind me, talking to you about my relationship like you're my guidance counsellor."

"How's Ray doing?"

"Bored. Being confined to the house twenty-two hours a day is killing him. Now he's got Lee to talk to, at least."

"I'm sure he's grateful for that."

"He is. You know, we're just about to get some lunch. Would you like to join us? Then you can see Ray for yourself."

Putting down the magazine, Tala shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I don't think it'd be appropriate."

"Come on!" Mariah smiled encouragingly, coming up alongside him as he started to walk away. She gave a girly skip every now and then to keep up with him, holding her purchased reading material against her chest. "It'll be nice. And Ray would be thrilled to see you. And I'm buying. It's not much really, but it's the least I can do in return for all the hard work you're doing, searching for Dox. Please, detective? At least come in for something the drink? It's just around the corner."

Well, he would like to see Ray again. And being with Ray, and Mariah, would help encourage his hopes that there were still _some_ decent human beings left in this world. And he really had left the office to get something to eat, so …

"Alright."

The restaurant was a bit on the rundown side, but not so much that Tala feared for his health eating from its meny. It did have a cosy, come-on-in feel about it, and appeared to be pretty popular with the locals.

Mariah was familiar with the staff, who she greeted with smiles and waves. She led him to the back, away from the noisy front section. Only three tables were occupied back here. At one sat a group of women in department store uniform, at the other sat a man behind yesterday's newspaper, and at the third sat Lee and Ray.

"Look who's here," Mariah sang as they approached. She shrugged off her coat and dumped it and the magazines on the empty table next to theirs. Lee and Ray had already deposited their own coats on it, along with the shopping bags Lee had brought in for Mariah.

"Wha—Hey!" Ray said, surprised to see Tala there. His surprise turned into excitement and he quickly got to his feet to offer Tala a hand. "It's great to see you again, Tala. Did you two just bump into each other outside or something?"

"We met at the newsstand," Mariah said, sitting down. "Didn't Lee tell you?"

"What's to tell?" Lee said, finally looking up from the menu he'd been scrutinizing. "I don't know the guy."

"Doesn't matter," Mariah quickly said."Sit down, sit down. And let's eat. I'm starving!"

"So, how have you been?" Ray asked as he retook his seat opposite Lee while Tala took the empty chair next to Ray. "I follow the news every day now. It's pretty overwhelming, that all of this is happening right here in Tokyo. Especially since, well…when you walk down the street, everything looks the same, you know?"

"I know," Tala said, adding his jacket to the pile.

"I really needed to get out. Besides, it was Lee's turn to cook and he didn't get back until late last night, so he slept in this morning, so he owes us a meal, and I was up for something different, cuisine wise. No offence," he told the other two. Mariah waved it off; Lee was studying the menu intently.

A waitress came by, asking if they were ready to order. Knowing that Mariah was paying, Tala choose a simple dish of rice and chicken. Mariah and Ray choose from the seafood variety, and Lee ordered four burgers for himself.

While waiting for their food, they made small talk. Rather, Mariah and Ray did most of the talking, concerning this and that; little things that made up their day. Tala left them to it, listening and adding his opinions once in a while, but mostly content to watch them interact. Lee, on the other hand, hardly spoke, and when he did it was only to his fiancé and friend.

Close by, the women suddenly erupted in peels of laughter before hushing themselves, giggling behind their hands. The lone gentleman turned a page as the waitress passed his table, putting down a drink for him before bringing over their order. It wasn't until their food had been brought and they started to eat when Ray turned the conversation onto Tala.

"I don't want to pry, but are you alright?" Ray asked him, picking at his fried fish.

"Depends," Tala said.

"I just couldn't help noticing that you don't look very good."

"He's right," Mariah said, wiping some sauce off the corner of Lee's mouth with a napkin.

"You've got circles under your eyes."

"I'm fine, compared to Wolborg," Tala said, staring at his plate and predicting that he wasn't going to be able to eat more than half of it. "He was attacked last night."

Ray's mouth felt open, torn between shock, pity and disgust. Mariah looked between them, confused. Lee looked up from his burgers, chewing slower.

"Who's Wolborg?" Mariah asked.

"My dog. Someone attacked him."

"That's horrible!" she gasped, holding a hand before her mouth to prevent the food from falling out. "I have a friend whose cat was once kicked by some rotten kids. Poor thing had to undergo surgery."

"It happened in the house while I was away."

Both Ray and Mariah spoke up at the same time.

"How is he?"

"What a horrible way to die!"

"He's alive," Tala replied, answering Ray and correcting Mariah, "but just barely."

"Do you think … " Ray made sure no one was listening before leaning in, yellow eyes wide. "Do you think it might have something to do with you being on these cases?"

"I knew this was a bad idea," Mariah worried, now eyeing everyone around them warily. "That's why it's always best to keep a low profile when stuff like this is going on, Ray. From now on you're not allowed to leave the house." She leaned over the table, almost putting her elbow in Lee's plate, and motioned Tala to come closer too. "Do you know who did it?"

"Not yet."

"Do you know anyone who might want to get back at you for something?" Ray asked.

Johnny's bandaged, sneering face came to mind, but Tala shook his head.

"I can't say. There's little to go on at the moment."

"Will he be alright? Wolborg?" Mariah asked.

"I can't say," Tala repeated, letting out a long sigh. He felt as tired as they said he looked.

"So horrible," Mariah said, swirling the ice cubes in her glass around with her straw.

"Don't you suspect the Soviet?" Lee suddenly asked, earning a disapproving look from Ray, which he pointedly ignored. He met Tala's puzzled eyes. "You're after the guy. Maybe it's his way of telling you to back off."

"Don't bring Kai into this," Ray said, indirectly clarifying things for Tala. "He loves animals."

"Not as much as he loves killing."

"It wasn't Hiwatari," Tala said, keeping his voice low.

"Do you have any proof that he wasn't at the scene of the crime?"

'Of course I do. He was preoccupied trying to undress me in his bed … '

"He_ is_ dangerous," Tala said, clearing his throat and mind, "and clinically insane, but he's also consistent. He has no record of cruelty to animals. People like him don't change their modus operandi after all these years."

"He had no record of chopping up people until his first murder," Lee reminded. Now even Mariah was giving him a stern look. "Hey, I'm just pointing out the facts, alright? I told you from the beginning that that Soviet was bad news. If you'd listened to me, Ray, you wouldn't be in the mess; forced to hide inside."

"Detective Ivanov is also a Russian," Mariah hissed, strongly urging Lee to stop using the derogatory term in Tala's presence.

"I'm the last person Kai would come after," Ray said, addressing the issue of Hiwatari. "And if it weren't for me he probably wouldn't have turned himself in in the first place."

"We shouldn't be talking about this in the open," Mariah cautioned. "Besides, it's still an ongoing investigation, so Detective Ivanov cannot talk about it."

"We shouldn't be talking about it at all," Ray insisted. "Kai had nothing to do with this. I know he didn't. Tala, you've got to believe me. He didn't do that to Wolborg. He couldn't. He _wouldn't_."

"What's it going to take for you to take off that blindfold and see that you're wasting your life defending that loon?" Lee asked, overruling his fiancée's pleas. He turned to Tala, pointing at Ray with his knife. "He just won't let it go. Five years, one escape, dozen or so dead bodies later and he's still thinking that, by some divine intervention, that Soviet will repent and come back to him."

"Stop calling him that. I just want him to be safe. Somewhere where he can't hurt others, and where others can't hurt him. Once he turns himself in I'll be able to see him again, right, Tala?"

Tala hesitated, but couldn't explain himself as Lee spoke up.

"Are you encouraging him, copper?" Lee sneered, canines even more pronounced than Ray's.

"I'm not. Hiwatari is dangerous and that's why I advised Ray to go into hiding in the first place. But if we get him back where he belongs, and if I can convince my superiors, then Ray might be allowed to visit him. After all, Ray's been a big help so far to us."

"Then give him reward money or something, instead of false hope. Ray's naïve; he gets too excited too easily and when things don't work out, it destroys him."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here, Lee," Ray said.

"Lee, enough!" Mariah cut in, seeing the hurt look on Ray's face. "It's all in the past. We all felt betrayed, and we all got over it. So what if Ray still has feelings for Kai? I didn't know Kai as well as you guys, but I do know that he made Ray happy. I … I know they really did love each other."

"How long did it take you to get over Kai's first arrest?" Lee insisted. The whiskers on his chin seemed to bristle. "Huh? You thought the world of him; thought that he was the greatest thing alive, and when it the truth came out it broke you. You snapped, remember? And who was the one who had to pull you back together? Me! If it hadn't been for me you would have thrown yourself off that bridge! And for what? A murderer!"

An uncomfortable silence fell over their table. Tala looked between the three, not feeling that it was his place to say anything. Ray, an empty look on his face, stood, throwing down his napkin.

"I'm sorry," he told Mariah, whose eyes were wet with angry tears. While he was holding it in, it was obvious that Ray was very upset too. "I'm no longer hungry. See you around, Tala."

He grabbed his coat and left, beating the group of women to the front door. Mariah dabbed at her eyes with Ray's napkin, cradling her head with the other hand. Tala stirred, about to excuse himself from the personal dispute, but Lee got to his feet first.

"I'll go talk to him," he said softly, already regretting his words.

Now with only two of them left at the table, four plates of uneaten food between them, Mariah spoke.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," she said. "Please don't think that that's how things always are between them. Lee loves Ray like a brother. He always looks out for him; goes out of his way to help him. When it happened, the whole thing with Kai, Lee was furious. Not with Ray, or even Kai, but with himself; he felt that he could have done more to protect Ray. It's just that, like I said, things have been tense lately. If you'd met Lee a year or so ago you would have gotten along really well, I'm sure. Sorry, for all this."

"I haven't been myself lately, either," Tala said, pushing away his plate. "Everyone has arguments, even best friends."

"I know." She wiped off her smudged eyeliner and didn't bother to reapply it. She looked at his plate. "Aren't you going to finish that?"

"I didn't have much of an appetite to begin with."

He summoned the waitress, who came with the bill. Mariah pulled out her purse but Tala stopped her, his wallet already in hand.

"Here," he said to the waitress. "This should cover it."

"What? No, it's okay. I said I'd pay for everything."

"We both know that this lunch was ruined because of me, even if you're too nice to say it out loud. At least let me pay for it."

"I'll be right back with your change," the waitress said.

"Really, Tala, you didn't have to do that," Mariah said, looking embarrassed.

"No use wasting your money like that. You've got a wedding to save up for, remember?"

At the mention of her wedding Mariah managed a smile.

"I've been planning my wedding since I was seven," she admitted. "The dress, the flowers, the music, the dance, the food… Would you … I know this may sound silly, after what just happened, but would you like to come to the wedding? Just think about it?"

"I will, though it depends: I don't know how long I'll be staying in Japan. When will it be held?"

"I'd love for it to be in the summer, in the countryside. My brother … " She had to stop herself and take a deep breath. "My brother left me all his possessions in his will. I sold most of it and sent the money back home to our parents. The only thing I couldn't part with was the house he had in the country."

She laughed softly, thinking back on fond memories.

"He actually bought it for me, you know? As a birthday present. As usual, he told me it wasn't much. A little something he picked up. Then he drove us out into the country, parked in front of the house, saying he wanted to take a picture of me, Lee and Ray in front of it, and then, just as he took the picture, he told us the truth. It's the most hilarious photo ever; the three of us with our mouths open, eyes wide. Kevin had a great sense of humour."

She reached over and took Tala's hand, her eyes glistening.

"You _have_ to stop Dox," she whispered. "I don't want anyone else to have to go through what I have. Losing Kevin and Gary like that, it's … I don't know whether you've ever had someone close to you die, but to experience the loss of a murdered loved one ... Sometimes I wonder how I am still able to get out of bed in the morning. Sometimes I just want to curl up and cry, wishing it's all just a horrible nightmare and that Kevin will walk in asking for something to eat like he always did."

Tala knew the feeling very well, but he didn't tell her about his own personal loss. It would only add to the gloom.

"It's tomorrow, isn't it?" she went on. "There should be another attack tomorrow. Please stop it. Even if you don't catch Dox, at least protect these people. We're all sinners, one way or another, but we're only human, aren't we?"

"We are. Only, most of us don't know it."

"Funny how the word 'humane' comes from 'human'," Mariah said, eyes downcast, staring at her hand over his. "We're the only species on this earth that purposefully hurts our own kind. Lying, stealing, threatening, raping, betraying, killing … It's ironic. Ridiculous, even."

"Mariah." Lee was back, standing a few feet away. Tala could see Ray standing outside. His back was turned to them but it seemed that he and Lee had settled their argument. "We better get going."

"Yeah," she said, letting Tala go. "Can you take our things out to the car, Lee? I'll be right behind you."

Nodding, Lee gathered everything, leaving only her and Tala's coats. Out of the corner of his eye Tala thought he saw the other man look at him, but by the time he turned Lee was already walking away, long hair swaying against his broad back.

"I'll buy dinner next time," Mariah promised. "I hope that by then Wolborg would have made a full recovery. I'll pray for him."

"Right now Wolborg doesn't need God. He just needs a good vet. I'm hoping ours is good enough."

"Lee's got a lot of experience," Mariah said, wrapping her scarf around her neck. "He's been treating animals since he was just a kid. I'd insist you bring Wolborg to him, only he wouldn't stand for it. This may sound weird, since he's a vet and all, but Lee hates dogs. Was bitten by a wild one back in the village as kid. Aren't you going?" she asked when Tala retook his seat.

"I think I'll stay for a while longer."

"Okay," she said, pulling on her coat and gloves.

"Mariah, can I ask you something?"

She paused, head tilted to one side.

"Sure."

"How is it that you're so sure, about Ray and Hiwatari's relationship?"

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled sadly, gripping her purse. Even without her make-up she was a lovely sight, and Lee should consider himself damn lucky to have her.

"I know what Ray's like when he's in love, because before he got together with Kai, he and I dated for a while."

"Really?"

"It didn't last long, but I saw the way Ray would look at Kai when they were together. It was the same look he used to give me when we were an item, only much, much stronger. Even to this day, I envy what they once had. I wish ... I wish it had worked out between them." She dropped her head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but, even after what he did, I cannot hate Kai like Lee does, because I know Ray still loves him. Kai's sick. Something's wrong with him, and it isn't his fault. He was good to Ray, and would have made him very happy if not for ... I hope the police will be able to capture Kai alive: if he were to die it would kill Ray, I just know it. Please, Tala, don't let that happen. I don't know what I'd do if I lost Ray too."

Tala let her go without any further questions.

"Would you like anything else, sir?" the waitress asked, collecting the plates.

"Coffee, please."

But he didn't drink it when she brought it. He just stared at the steaming surface as it cooled. A newspaper was folded somewhere behind him. He stirred at the sound.

'Fuck Johnny,' he thought, throwing some extra bills on the table for the coffee. 'I can't let him keep me from doing my job.'

Picking up his jacket, he was confused at first to find a pile of magazines under it, then remembered that they were Mariah's. He'd accidentally thrown his jacket over them. While he was considering taking them with him for the next time he met up with the neko-jins, his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"_You can't see it, but I'm waving a white flag right now. Well, actually it's Steve's handkerchief, not that he'd ever call it that; would ruin his image."_

"Michael," Tala sighed. "Sorry about—"

"_It's nothing. Johnny was getting on your case, instead of getting on with Hiwatari's. The guy's enough to send anyone into a killing spree. No biggie."_

"And we've got enough killings at the moment."

"_Wanna talk about it?"_

"Maybe some other time," Tala said, flinging his scarf around his neck.

"_Yeah, things are really heating up here, because of tomorrow. You know there's a bet going around. You didn't hear it from me, but there's a pool: the guy who correctly guesses the next victim, sin and method of killing wins. It's all under the desks, of course. If the boss learns about it balls will be cut. Just so you know to keep away."_

"I still have some sense of morality left, so don't worry about me getting involved. Are you?"

"_Shit no. Gotta have some respect for the dead, right?"_

"Right," Tala agreed, rubbing the side of his neck.

Betting on the dead … Did it no longer matter to them? Did the murders, the dead no longer mean anything to their cause? It couldn't be that Hiwatari was right, could it?

"Michael, is there something you need to tell me now? I'm on my way back anyway so if it can wait … "

"_I guess it can. Remember you asked for more info on people from Hiwatari's past? They found another good lead."_

"Who?"

"_Max Tate, one of Hiwatari's old classmates. He was Tyson Granger's best friend too. I don't really get it, though, Tala. You're meant to be working on the Dox case. Why do you keep going after Hiwatari?"_

"Because there's a link between the two," Tala said, restacking the magazines. "And I believe that the answer to Dox will come from Hiwatari's side."

"_You're only making it harder on yourself by juggling both these cases."_

"I never thought it's be easy."

"_Come on, Red, I don't want to be a downer here, but even if you did find out that motherfucker's identity, there's no way we could catch him by tomorrow."_

"No harm in trying."

"_I didn't say there was. Just … Brace yourself for whatever happens."_

Cradling the magazines in the crook of his arm, Tala couldn't stop the top magazine from slipping off. It landed on the floor, leaving several creases in the once smooth cover. He reached down for it …

"Oh. Shit."

"_What?"_

"What goes before the fall?" Tala asked himself out loud, staring at the magazines that proudly boasted their beautiful cover models.

"_I don't know … er … Summer? Stepping on a shoelace while playing basketball? I broke an ankle that way a couple years back. Eddie will never let me live that down."_

"Brooklyn told us, Michael," Tala said, dropping the magazines and shifting through them, looking from one superficial headline to the next. "He told us where to look! He told us which sin was next. He gave us the entire sequence but we only bothered to notice the first three."

"_The guy's a nutcase, in case you for—Whoa! Pride goes before fall! ... Good one, Red. Only problem is, that still doesn't tell us who he'll be targeting next."_

"It's something. I'll be there as soon as possible."

Snapping the phone shut, Tala grabbed the fallen magazine and straightened up so fast he accidentally bumped into the waitress. A newspaper fell to his feet. No, not the waitress. The lone gentleman with the newspaper, now wearing a fedora.

"Sorry," Tala said, picking up the paper for him. "I'm in a big hurry."

"Aren't we all?"

Green eyes gleamed at him from beneath the hat's rim, but the refined madness in them was unmistakeable.

"Wh-What are _you_ doing here?!" Tala hissed, looking around them anxiously.

Hiwatari neatly folded the paper and tucked it under his arm. His cheeks were clean, no tattoos.

"Oh? I thought you were in a hurry," he reminded, making to keep walking.

Tala grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him back, out of sight from the rest of the diners.

"Are you crazy?!" he asked, dropping the magazines onto the table.

"Certified," Hiwatari reminded. "Or was that an attempt at a rhetorical question?"

"Stop following me."

Laughing softly, Hiwatari took a seat, lounging back and crossing his legs. He started paging through a magazine at random. He was wearing black gloves; leaving no fingerprints behind.

"I wasn't following you, Conceited," he said. "But I was pleasantly surprised to see you. _Always_ a pleasure to see you … " He smiled, eyeing Tala as if he were the special of the day.

"Stop that! Then why are you here? This place doesn't measure up to your high standards."

"I believe I'm the only one who can judge my standards. Besides, they do have a delicious vegetable soup here. And the breadsticks were fresh too."

Remembering what had brought him to this restaurant in the first place, Tala panicked.

"How did you know that Ray was going to be here?"

"That doesn't really concern you."

"Stay away from him, Hiwatari."

"Why? Jealous?"

"You are so full of yourself."

"Hn."

Tala watched warily as Hiwatari rose from the chair. A gloved hand reached out to tug at his turtleneck. Tala would have pulled away, but the arm around his waist held him in place as Hiwatari stared at the mark, rubbing it with a finger. But just as soon as he leaned in he pulled back, the red of his eyes burning through the green lenses.

"McGregor touched you. I can _smell_ him on you."

"Jealous?" Tala countered dryly.

"Yes," Hiwatari said without reservation, tightening the hold as if to overpower Johnny's scent with his. "I don't want him touching you again. If he does I will do more than sever another finger."

"That's enough." Tala twisted free of the possessive hands. "I can take care of myself. And chance or not, I don't want to see you again unless we arranged a meeting, understood?"

"I'll think it over." A shift had come over the handsome face. Pulling down his hat a bit more, Hiwatari smirked and cordially placed the magazine he'd been paging through in Tala's hand. "We both have places to get to and people to see. Too bad you missed your chance. You might be interested in the article on page eighteen."

With a sly wink, Hiwatari left, vanishing through a large group of people who were just coming in. No one looked up. No one even glanced his way. It was as if he was a ghost among the living. Hiwatari vanished so effortlessly it was hard to believe he'd really been standing before to Tala just seconds earlier. Were it not for the burning sensation on his skin, Tala would have thought he'd daydreamed the whole meeting.

Still feeling lightheaded, he opened the magazine to page eighteen ... and gasped. Unable to take his eyes off the page, he grabbed his phone and dialled.

"_Yo,"_ Michael answered.

"I know who Dox will target next," Tala said, staring at the photo accompanying the article.

"_Whoa, whoa. Take it easy. What do you mean?"_

"Find Captain Balcov. Get everyone together. Dox is going international."

"_What? He's leaving the country?"_

"No. He's targeting someone from another country. Someone who arrived in Tokyo this morning." Tala feared for the stranger smiling up at him from the colourful page. "Michael, Dox is going after Oliver Polanski."

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	18. January 24: Pride

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Monday, January 24, 2004**_

_**Time: 08.20**_

Tala slammed his fist against the wall in the corridor outside the room. When a hand grabbed on his shoulder he violently shrugged it off and paced a couple feet away. Michael watched on, glum. Other officers who were only just arriving walked by, taking Tala's behaviour as a bad sign as they entered the royal suite. If they were horrified by what they found inside they didn't voice it. It was just another body to them. More paperwork.

"I told you to brace yourself for the worst," Michael said.

"We knew," Tala said, staring blankly at his feet. "We knew who he'd target next, and still we're too late! What's it going to take, Michael? Are we suppose to just sit back and let Dox kill off the next three and hope that he'll be satisfied?"

"Don't be stupid. We're not going to let him get away with this."

"Were we just in the same room? Am I the only one who can see the body? He _is_ getting away with it!"

"Shut up," Michael ordered him, grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him roughly. "Just shut up, Tala! Get a grip of yourself already! What were you expecting, huh? You thought we'd walk in there and find Polanski alive and well and Dox neatly tied up in a corner, ready for us to take him back to the station? It's been done. We couldn't save Polanski, but at least you were able to identify him. _That's_ progress. Three weeks ago we didn't even know why he was killing people: you worked it out. Just don't go expecting it all to fall in place nicely now!"

Tala took deep breaths. His frustration, which had been bordering on rage, leaked away slowly. Shrugging off Michael's hold a second time, he ran a hand over his face. He stared up at the fancy ceiling and cleared his mind as best he could, but the worst still lingered in his thoughts.

The image … The horror that was just a few metres away, accessible by simply walking through the front door of the penthouse suite. All but one room in there was still in perfect condition: elegant, stylish and sparkling. But the bedroom …

"How did he do it?" Tala asked, turning to Michael. "All that blood ... "

Having hoped against all hopes, he had entered the bedroom ahead of Michael, only to immediately turn away when he spotted the blood trail leading from the bathroom to the bed, where a naked leg dangled over the side of the mattress. More turned off by his failure than the sight, he'd pushed past Michael and stormed out.

"Don't know. Didn't get a good look myself," Michael said. He'd been called out of bed and even with all the excitement he still looked tired. "Ready to go back in?"

With one last frustrated sigh, Tala agreed and they re-entered. This time around, he took the time to quietly report what he saw into the recorder as they walked through the lavish lounge and shiny kitchen.

"Security downstairs say that Polanski returned less than an hour ago," Michael said. "They'd tried contacting him after we contacted them yesterday afternoon but Polanski is … _was_ known for always being on the move, even when within the confines of a city. According to his agent, yesterday he attended two signing sessions, two interviews, one photo shoot and a restaurant opening downtown. After his last appointment last night he hit the nightclubs, then attended a private party, where he stayed until dawn."

"Was there anyone with him when he got back here?" Tala asked.

"No, but surveillance tapes are being examined right now. The receptionists and security were waiting on him and say that he was pretty wasted when he got back, and that he refused to negotiate or even talk to any of them."

"What about personal security? Didn't he have security guards?"

"Yeah, but they're staying on a lower floor. Polanski wasn't big on having people close to him. He forbade anyone from coming up to his rooms unless called for."

Steve, who'd arrived with Michael, stood grimfaced just inside the bedroom.

"Here's a new one," he grunted, tossing his head in the direction of the bathroom. "Don't know what to make of it yet."

Investigators were combing the room. Cameras flashed and evidence was numbered. Men and women were stepping carefully to avoid smearing the blood drops on the carpet. Tala followed the two Americans into the bathroom where Steve wanted to show them something.

"The door was closed, but it's obvious from the amount of blood on the bed sheets that the cutting happened in here," he said, waving three officers out despite the bathroom being big enough to accommodate twenty. "Looks like Dox had been waiting in here when Polanski returned. He was attacked, then either dragged or crawled out into the bedroom."

The sink was filled with red water. Bloody handprints were smeared on the smooth porcelain countertop and streaks of blood on the wall ran down to the floor. A bloody switchblade sat on the little shelf under the mirror, on, scrawled in pink lipstick and outlined with black eyeliner, was written:

**PRIDE**

"Whatever he did to Polanski's face, it isn't pretty," Steve said needlessly.

Tala turned away from the shower.

"His face?"

He got his answer soon enough. They exited the bathroom and approached the bed.

On the wall above the headboard was a large photo of Polanski. A young man of only seventeen—Tala had been shocked to discover—he'd been born into immeasurable wealth and blessed with the angelic good looks. His soft hair and bright eyes had won him admirers worldwide. In this photo he was resting on his elbows, staring with seductive violet eyes into the camera.

Tala lowered his gaze to the bed.

Naked and tangled in the silk sheets, the lithe body was unmarked and untouched, but a bloody gauze cocooned the entire head, leaving only blue lips visible. Something about his face was off. It looked too … flat. The body was on its back, turned slightly to one side as if Polanski had made one last attempt to roll over before dying. One hand clutched an empty bottle of pills; the other, a telephone.

"Glue?" Michael asked Steve, referring to the hardened substance that had been liberally smeared onto both hands, forcing the fingers to remain clenched around the items.

"Must have been quick-drying," Steve said.

"We got enough pictures of his head?" Michael asked someone, who nodded. Michael pulled on a pair of plastic gloves. "Someone get me a pocket knife or razor blade; anything that can cut."

He was quickly handed a pair of tiny scissors. Mindful not to disturb the position of the body, he leaned over it and began to carefully cut away at the gauze, snipping only small pieces off at a time. Standing next to Steve, Tala was the closest to the bed when Michael finally peeled off the last sticky strip. There was a collective groan from those around them, but, curiosity abated, the rest just went back to work. Tala, however, couldn't look away so easily.

Michael stood and pulled off his bloody gloves.

"You checked the sink?" he asked Steve.

"Yeah."

"You sure there was nothing in it?"

"A chopped off nose would have been hard to miss, don't ya think?"

Michael and Steve continued to speculate where the missing body part could be while Tala stepped up to the bed. Without the nose, the face looked skeletal. The cut had been made cleanly. It was hard to tell through the dried blood, but there was reason enough to suspect that the eyes had been glues shut as well. Tala looked down at the items in the hand. The pills had been harmless sleeping tablets. He turned over the other hand in order to read the phone's illuminated screen. The emergency number had been punched in, but the call had not been made.

"Think he did it to mock him?" Steve was asking Michael as they returned to the bed, having gone back into the bathroom, still stumped about the missing nose. "Gluing his hand to the phone, knowing that he'd never be able to actually make the call, and then forcing him to overdose?"

"He wasn't forced," Tala spoke up, staring between the phone and the bottle.

That turned a few surprised heads.

"Dox gave this one a choice," Michael said, on the same page as Tala. "He mutilated Polanski's face with the knife. No amount of plastic surgery could have ever gotten it back to its original state. Then he gave him a choice: call for help and live disfigured, or give in to your pride and kill yourself."

"That doesn't match Dox at all," someone near the closet said. "He likes to finish them off himself."

"He didn't actually kill Ishida himself," another reminded. "Just bound him and starved him."

"Anything to get his point across."

"Guess it was Polanski's choice, wasn't it?"

"What did you say?" Tala hissed at the man who had so casually tossed that out.

"He could have chosen to live," the man answered sheepishly. "This was his choice. If he hadn't been so vain he would still be alive. His pride made him do it."

Michael wisely grabbed Tala and left Steve to deal with the now cowering man.

"So he deserved this, huh?!" Steve's voice rumbled from the bedroom while Michael escorted Tala out before he did anything rash.

"They don't care," Tala repeated to himself as he left the suite for a second time. "They don't care about any of them. Just extra paperwork; that's all those guys in there see these people as! It's as if they're growing bored of the case. Betting on people's lives, and just shoving the blame on the dead so that they can go home earlier at the end of the day!"

Tala slumped against the wall, feeling tired and disillusioned.

"I keep hoping for a miracle, but it's as if everyone has given up … "

"I haven't," Michael said, leaning back next to him. "Neither have Steve, Eddie, Emily, Captain Balcov … Hell, bastard that he is, even Johnny's still determined. Don't listen to that guy. People often get discouraged in our line of work, but that doesn't mean that they've given up. Despite what he said, that guy's still in there, searching for evidence, because, even if we don't stop Dox before he completes this mission, we sure as hell wants to see him pay for his crimes."

Tala crossed his arms with a sigh. He wasn't going to go back in there. He'd seen and heard all he had to.

"How did you know what the message would be this time?" Michael asked.

"What?"

"Where did you get the whole 'pride goes before fall' thing?"

" … _The next time you walk past a newsstand, take a look around and remember what comes before the fall … "_

"It's just something that came to mind. I'd remembered what Brooklyn had said and I happened to have a bunch of magazines with me ."

Michael wasn't fully convinced.

"Sharp mind," he said vaguely, staring at Tala with unreadable eyes. "Not something I would have considered at the time—"

"You're not me, are you?" Tala cut in coldly, pushing himself away from the wall. "I'm done here."

"Tala, wha … Where are you going?" Michael called out to him as he walked away.

"Home."

"But what about the files?"

"Later."

"Tala!"

He didn't answer. He didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator so he took the stairs. They were twenty-five storeys up, but he needed to walk things off, including his guilt. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he stared with dead eyes at the steps as he descended, all focus turned inwardly.

This was not how it was supposed to have happened. They should have saved Polanski, gotten to him before Dox had. Polanski being such a famous person, Tala hadn't expected it to be so difficult to track him down, but somehow the Frenchman had unknowingly eluded them all day and night, only to come back to his hotel to be … Every precaution had been taken! Bryan had acted quickly on Tala's tip and had contacted the hotel at once. Security had agreed to keep an eye out for when Polanski returned, but due to his dislike of overbearing security measures, Polanski had refused to let any of them to stay by his side.

It was then and there that the fatal mistake had been made. Rather than immediately calling the police the second the young man had stepped foot inside the lobby, the receptionist at the front desk had wasted precious time trying to persuade Polanski to allow a small security group to accompany him to his room, an offer he had turned down. The police didn't arrive until over an hour later.

"How did he get in?" Tala now asked his recorder. "This hotel caters strictly to the rich and famous. All staff members are subjected to rigorous background checks and careful monitoring. No one can just walk in off the street: security is tight. Which explains why they thought Polanski to be safe once inside the building. There's no way Dox could have snuck in here. Either he works here, or he managed to lie his way inside, pretending to be someone else, or he … just teleported straight into the bathroom."

That's all he needed right now, for Dox to be some supernatural spirit with a bloodlust for revenge.

He'd just reached the third floor when a loud buzzing echoed throughout the empty stairwell, which was purely for emergency seeing as none of the hotel guests would ever deign it tasteful to use the stairs. It wasn't until the second buzz that he realized what was making the sound.

"I don't need this!" he swore as he pulled out the ice-blue phone, which was flashing. He considered dropping it, but the wolf sticker gleamed like it knew his intent. He answered. "What?"

"_I told you you'd missed your chance,"_ said the smooth voice.

"Yes, thank you for that, Hiwatari," Tala sneered, continuing on his way down. "You'll be happy to hear that Dox did get to Polanski before we could and that he's dead."

"_I already know that. All of Japan and most of the world already knows that."_

"What? How?"

"_I take it you haven't turned on the television, or looked out a window? I wouldn't exit through the front doors if I were you: every reporter and cameraman in the city is waiting for some juicy morsel straight from the mouth of a lone official. They've figured that Polanski's dead, but they want the gory details."_

"Able to deduct all that from your television set in your cosy little apartment?"

"_Oh, something like this can only be experienced live…"_

"You're outside? Are you insane?!"

"_Why do you keep asking that?"_ Hiwatari asked, and Tala could picture the man rolling his eyes. _"I grew tired of the stupidity of the crowd. Besides, I have to do some grocery shopping. Officer, really, if you wish to avoid the mass hysteria I highly recommend taking the backdoor."_

"Is that all you wanted to tell me?"

"_That and Wolborg misses you."_

"What have you done to my dog?" Tala demanded very loudly, his heart skipping a beat. "Was it you? Did you do that to him?!"

"_As far as I can recall, I was preoccupied that night with someone else…"_ Tala couldn't see it but he knew that there was a smirk on that face that he itched to wipe off. _"No, I simply decided to drop by the veterinarian and see how he was doing. The kind doctor wasn't very optimistic, but she is giving him the best care she can offer. Sadly, I say that his chances of recovery are moot."_

"Shut up! I do _not _need this bullshit from you right now!"

The call suddenly ended. Had Hiwatari hung up on him?

Reaching the ground floor, Tala paused. He'd parked his car out front. Exiting the stairwell and stepping out into a hallway off to the side of the lobby, he could see the front desk. Staff members were trying to convince their guests to return to their rooms and keep out of the police's way, but it was proving difficult as more and more news of the murder was reaching the ears of everyone within the building. The guests were panicking and the staff overwhelmed. Security was too busy ensuring that no cameras got in.

"Who are you?" a voice asked from behind Tala.

He turned to find a haggard looking guard. Tala pulled out his ID.

"Ah, right," the man said, mopping his sweating brow with a handkerchief. "Sorry about that. You're one of the investigators, aren't you?"

"Something like that," Tala said. He nodded towards the crowd at the front desk. "Looks like we both have our hands full."

"They're demanding guards for themselves. And cameras. Either that or they're threatening to leave and never return. A perfect record for 65 years, and suddenly this has to happen."

"I'd rather avoid talking about this to the media: is there any way I can leave without being noticed."

The guard pointed back down the hall.

"Just keep walking. There's an emergency exit at the end. Leads out into the parking lot where trucks make their deliveries. It's hotel grounds so you won't find any reporters there. From there you can get back on the street without anyone seeing you." Rolling his shoulders, he sighed. "Wish I could get out of here myself. By the way, your phone's flashing."

Tala looked down and froze. He was still holding the ice-blue mobile. Praying that the guard would never recall seeing the device, he hurried down the hall, opening the phone only when he could no longer hear the angry demands. But there was no message. He continued fiddling with it even as he stepped outside, pulling his coat close against the cold. As promised, the lot was empty. Tala hit the redial button.

A cell phone rang behind him. He turned, expecting to find Hiwatari, but there was no one. Following the ringing, he found the second phone, identical to his except it was red and had a phoenix sticker instead of a blue wolf's. He flipped it open to find a message:

_**Had to hang up. Someone was trying to trace our call. Destroy and get rid of the first phone and keep this one. Same number. Polanski had been signing autographs just a couple of blocks away from where we both lunched. Next time, act faster. Your car is parked on the other side of the wall to your left.**_

Stuffing both phones in his pocket, Tala followed the instructions and found his car parked and ready to go. He still had the keys in his pocket, but there were no signs of the car having been hotwired. The driver's seat was still warm when he got in. On the front passenger's seat was a large, blank envelope, on top of which was a CD case. Tala opened the envelope first, pulled out the first of many photos … and dropped it.

With a curse he struck the steering wheel, staring at the photo where it had landed on the floor of his car.

Oliver Polanski, walking through the hotel lobby. He was wearing the clothes that personnel described him as wearing that morning upon his return. His hair was tousled and his eyes slightly cloudy. Even from the still photograph Tala could tell that he was drunk. This hadn't been taken by a security camera.

Tala took out the rest and shifted through them, watching the story unfold.

Polanski getting into the elevator, alone … Polanski walking down the hallway towards his suite … Polanski having trouble opening his door … Polanski going inside …

Tala swallowed difficultly at the next photos.

Polanski entering the bathroom, caught off-guard by finding someone else in there … Polanski backed up against the wall, terrified … Polanski kneeling next to the sink, crying … A single photo of nothing except the switchblade, sitting on the edge of the empty sink … The bloody switchblade, sitting on the edge of the blood-filled sink … Polanski crawling on the floor towards the bedroom, one hand covering his bloody face … Polanski sitting with his back against his bed, both hands covering his face and knees pulled to his chest … Polanski, covering the lower half of his face while he stares at an unopened bottle of pills and a phone … Polanski, the two items now glued in his hands, the hideous damage to his face visible, tears streaming down his bloodied cheeks … Polanski, pouring the contents of the bottle into his mouth … Polanski, lying dead on his bed in the same position they had found him … Polanski, now with his face wrapped tightly … The sin written on the mirror …

By the time Tala got to the last photo his chest was painfully tight. His eyes were wet but he manage to keep the tears in, despite the horror of having viewed the final minutes and seconds of the teenager's life. This was crucial evidence, but he couldn't turn them in. Doing so would raise questions as to how he'd acquired them and he would never be able to come up with a believable alternative answer. Hiwatari knew this, so why had he left them here?

An insignificant piece of paper was all that was left in the envelope. On it was written:

_**Call me on the new phone**_

"_You almost made me drop my eggs,"_ Hiwatari greeted, speaking up to be heard over the sounds of the supermarket.

"Where did you get these?" Tala demanded.

"_They had been left on the bed,"_ Hiwatari said matter-of-factly.

"Polanski's bed?"

"_I know: an odd place to leave valuable evidence like that."_

"What were you doing in there? When … _How_ did you … ?!"

"_I was just curious. Seeing how this is the first infamous Dox murder to occur since my early release, I wanted to see the aftermath for myself, before the officials arrived a polluted the scene. My hat goes off to Dox: he has a taste for style and flair."_

"Only another psycho could evaluate a crime scene like that and compare it to art. What am I suppose to do with them if I can't hand them over to forensics?"

"_One moment,"_ Hiwatari said and Tala heard him ask someone else, _"Are you out of fresh salmon? Yes, I can wait. I have all the time in the world … What was that? … Oh yes, I heard about the murder. My partner and I were just talking about it. There are such sick people in this world. What? … Well then, I'll take the leg of lamb instead … Thank you. You have a good day, young lady. Ta … Pardon that interruption,"_ he spoke directly into the phone again. _"It's always mad in the meat section. As for your question, they are useless for forensic research. I looked over them myself and there are no incriminating evidence in them."_ Again, he broke off their conversation to address someone. _"Excuse me, miss, but you dropped your purse … No, no trouble at all. Just be more careful … Much obliged."_

Tala shivered, hearing the bluenette speaking so cordially to the same people he'd kill in cold blood if they ever got in his way.

"Hiwatari, the photos?" he repeated, his free hand clamped on the steering wheel.

"_She was pretty. I've forgotten how beautiful women are. I'd seek their company if I hadn't already found someone far more worth my while,"_ Hiwatari said casually, then actually heard the question and said, _"I would have discarded the photos myself, but I figured you might need future motivation. Think about it: do you want more people to go through_that_?"_

Tala snapped the phone shut and tossed it behind him onto the backseat. For the longest of while he just sat there, one hand on the steering wheel, the other against his head. He waited tensely but the cell didn't ring. Staring down the narrow street that lead out onto the main road, he realized that the answer was no. Looking at Polanski Polanski's terrified eyes, his helpless situation, his senseless death, Tala realized that both Michael and Hiwatari were right: he wanted Dox in jail. He wanted Hiwatari back in custody as well, but at least he knew where the bluenette was (sometimes) and what he was up to (occasionally). But Dox, he didn't even have a face.

"He won't get away," Tala told the pictured victim as he gathered the photos neatly and slipped everything back into the envelope. "I won't let the person who did this to you, to Gao, to Ginko, to Ishida … I won't let him get away with these murders. I failed this time, but next week it'll be his turn, before he can kill again. I promise each and every one of you."

He hadn't gotten around to asking Hiwatari about the CD, but since the bluenette had made no mention of finding that as well it probably didn't have anything to do with the case. After a moment's indecision, he picked it up. Writing on the inside jacket was: _**Just a piece I've been practicing.**_With a defeated sigh Tala popped it into the CD player. There was a soft note, barely audible over the engine, but the strength of each key grew until he could recognize the introduction of Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata_"_, played by the hands of a master.

"Practice," Tala scoffed as he turned onto the street. "You're just a showing off."

He glanced in his rear view mirror and what he saw made him pull over to the side of the road. He remained in the car, watching the spectacle in the mirror.

A couple hundred feet away, the front of the hotel was swamped. Cars were gridlocked and among them people tried to push their way to the front while officers struggled to keep the barricades in place. Reporters were waving their mikes at anyone in uniform while cameras were being held up above the crowd, trying to zoom into the hotel lobby. Fans and admirers were crying, clutching flowers and stuffed animals that they were trying to leave at the door but security roughly held them back. People were looking out from nearby windows, some with their own cameras, hoping to spot something those below couldn't and sell it to the media.

The haunting melody coming from his speakers mocked the scene. It was a sad, how the empty fan worship and story-hungry media interest was going to cheapen Polanski's death. Tragic how everyone would try to outdo the other and spin the events leading up to his death to illogical heights. Tragic that amidst all the chaos, no one really would remember that a life had been cruelly ended. Fans would move on to other idols and the media hype would soon find another person's anguish to latch onto. When the thrill was over, no one would care much for young Oliver Polanski.

The final note died out peacefully. The silence was too loud so Tala hit the repeat button.

"I have to give this my all," he told himself. "This case, I can't screw up again. This case is all that should matter to me. It's the only reason I came here in the first place. I have to get rid of as many distractions as possible…"

* * *

_**Monday, January 24, 2004**_

_**Time: 14.39**_

Bryan stared at the key on his desk, fingers steepled. At first Tala thought he was never going to comment on having it dropped not so ceremoniously before him, but the Captain finally picked it up

"It wasn't even a fight, Tala."

"It's not about that."

"Then why are you moving out? Are you trying to tell me something else?"

"I'm not calling it quits," Tala said, taking a seat on the edge of the desk and toying with the cord of the lamp. "I just think that I made a rushed decision. I came here to work on the case, and that should have been my top priority from the start. I lost track of that because of … "

"Because of me," Bryan finished. "I wasted your time, was that it?"

"We're both under a lot of stress and if we're not careful things can really get messed up. I only came to give you the key to your house. Maybe … it'll just be for the best if we put some space between us. Give us time to focus on what's really important."

"I thought _we_ were really important. I thought that you wanted it as much as I do."

Tala could not blame Bryan's reaction. It was he who had shut Bryan out the night before last when he had tried to talk to him. He had avoided his lover all of yesterday, and Bryan had respected his need for some space. When he'd walked into the office a few minutes ago a pleased smile had crept its way onto Bryan's face, only to have the key he'd given Tala tossed back to him. Maybe he was making a big mistake. Bryan was all he had left, and now he was pushing him away. A terrible mistake, maybe.

"We'll still see each other here at work, and I'll come over regularly," he promised softly.

"I don't want you living on your own," Bryan argued, rising from his chair and walking around the desk to stand before Tala. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and the top two buttons of his collar undone. He had spent the entire night at the station, only to start a new day with the news that a celebrity was dead. "It's too dangerous. If whoever did that to Wolborg finds out that you're back on your own they might come after you next. Look, I'll leave you alone when we're both home, alright? Just take back this key."

Tala pushed the hand away.

"I still love you," he whispered. "I'll be alright."

The key clattered on the desk as Bryan pressed their lips together. Tala returned it with fervour, but as they kissed the image of Bryan began to shift. Instead of pale violet hair, Tala saw himself gripping dark hair while light bangs brushed his face. The body he imagined was more muscled than Bryan's; the hands, less gentle. The soft purple eyes burned passionate red. Instead of Bryan's heavy breathing, Tala only heard a purring voice.

" … _Do you want to know what I've been wanting to do to you ever since I met you … "_

"Stop," he gasped, pushing them apart. From the look on Bryan's face he knew the other thought himself to be the source of distaste. "It's not that—"

The door opened, allowing in one Johnny McGregor, nose re-bandaged.

"Oi, about meeting up with those French dignitaries … " Johnny started to say, trailing off when he spotted Tala. His eyes flashed, but then it was gone and Johnny said, unusually polite, "Sorry. Is this a bad time?"

"No. We're done here. Ivanov was just leaving," Bryan said, returning his seat without giving Tala a second glance. "What about the meeting?"

Tala accepted his dismissal yet deeply regretted leaving it at that.

"Sorry to hear about Polanski. Almost had him, ey?" Johnny said as Tala walked out.

Tala loitered out in the hall for a few minutes, hoping that Johnny would only be in there for a short while and that he'd get a chance to properly explain himself to Bryan. But as the clock's hand ticked by he lost his nerves and finally left.

The station was more abuzz over this death than the others. Some people were crying, having been fans of Polanski. Other's worried over how they were going to manage the glaring spotlight. This was no longer Japan's problem. An international star was dead and the world was demanding answers, and a suspect.

"They say the president of France himself will be sending a letter soon," a man leaning against a filing cabinet said to two other colleagues as Tala passed. "And a few hacking attempts have already been made on our computers. This is big. Way too big."

"Sensationalists," the second man dismissed. "Wait until some other celebrity is discovered sleeping with his mother-in-law and the frenzy will move on to that."

Whatever the third man's opinion was, Tala didn't hear it. He stopped for no one and nothing as he made his way down to the garage. He heard someone shout his name just as he started down the stairs. Michael hurried down after him but once reaching him the American took a seat on the steps, holding up a hand.

"Whoa, give me a minute," Michael said, breathing heavily. "I only just heard that you were in the station and I ran it all the way down from the seventh floor. I think I accidentally floored that freckled kid who brings the mail around."

"You wanted to show me some files," Tala suddenly remembered, memory jogged by the folders tucked under Michael's arm.

"Yeah." Michael stood. "Whew! Man, and here I was thinking I was in perfect shape. Didn't get a chance to hit the gym at all last week. Anyway, the files are in my car. I was going to pass by the Captain's house and drop them off for you—"

"I'm moving back into my apartment."

"Eh? But I thought you and the boss … I figured you two were living together permanently."

"Change of plans."

" … Um," Michael said uncomfortably, sensing that he'd stumbled gracelessly into business that wasn't his. "Yeah, the files are … My car's over there."

Tala followed the other through the underground garage. His own car was parked on the other side, and he was eager to return to his apartment, but Michael, though breathless, looked more eager to share whatever it is he'd found. Michael's car, a large SUV, was in good condition except for a long scratch across the bumper.

"Been meaning to get that fixed," Michael said as he deactivated the alarm with his keychain. "I used to park closer to the entrance, until some short-sighted ass from highway patrol scraped the front. The guy spends his days and night ticketing speeders and lecturing drunk drivers, then backs up and wrecks _my_ car. But she still drives like a dream."

Tala waited while Michael tossed the keys on the dashboard and the files onto the backseat. He then took off his cap and shrugged off his jacket. Finally, he reached back and produced a cardboard box, quickly finding the files he'd specially tagged. He handed them to Tala and sat back, waiting expectantly.

"Max Tate," Tala read, staring at a picture, dated 1998, of a young blond with big blue eyes. "Who's Max Tate again?"

"Tyson Granger's best friend," Michael quickly supplied, having been sitting on this information for almost two days. "An exchange student from America who studied at the same university."

"Did he go back to America?"

"He only studied for two years at the university, instead of the planned three. We don't know if he dropped out, switched universities or returned home. Not yet, anyway. His name just popped up while they were doing a background check on Hiwatari's old classmates. It looks like there was a little clique of sorts. Along with Kon and Granger, there was Tate and another guy, Kenny Kyoujyu. We've got next to nothing on the last one as he had little contact with Hiwatari; he was closer to Granger and Tate. Also, they did a sweep of the university's archive and came up with some extra bits of information. After what happened today, one of those bits might be extremely helpful. Guess with who Tate, Granger and Hiwatari spent their holiday exchange once? Yes. None other than Oliver Polanski. The Polanski and Hiwatari dynasty go way back, apparently."

This knowledge troubled Tala more than it enlightened him. Had Hiwatari lied to him about the photos after all?

"Thanks. I'll get right on it when I get back," he said numbly as he closed the files, fighting to prevent the wild theories that were popping up in his head.

"Oh. I was kinda expecting you to be a bit more excited."

"It feels like I spend more time apologizing to you than anything, but I'm sorry," Tala said. "This really is a big deal, but I've been bombarded with a lot of big deals today."

"What's wrong, other than the obvious?"

"Everything."

Putting away the cardboard box, Michael turned in his seat to lean against his door, arms crossed.

"What's on your mind?" he asked.

"A lot more than I can tell you," Tala answered, absently playing with the strap of the seat belt.

"That's bad. But you can at least tell me something. It'll take a bit of the weight off. Come on. I don't want to hear anything about Polanski, may he rest in peace; just _you_."

"Bryan and I had a fight."

"Everyone has one of those. Emily almost threw a stapler at my head the other day because she felt that I was slacking in my work," Michael offered. "Crazy woman. I take two hours off to watch the finals and she goes PMS on me."

Tala looked at him with tired scepticism.

"Eddy said you were watching the game on your phone during a meeting."

"Good thing I didn't miss it: my team won."

"Mine and Bryan's fight was a bit more serious than that."

"I'm sure you'll be able to work things out once things have settled down a bit. What else?"

"Johnny's up to something. I know he's just waiting for the right time to sink his teeth in."

"And I'm waiting for the right moment to give him two nice black eyes and a busted lip to go along with that broken nose. Not that you can't look after yourself; you did some serious damage to his nose yesterday. He had to go to the hospital to have it reset. But he isn't making a big deal out of it, so yeah, I get that he's up to something. I have your back, though. Keep going."

"And everything else is just slipping out of my control. The case, Wolborg, Polanski, myself—"

"If it makes you feel any better, look at it the way I do," Michael said. "I like to think that somewhere, someone's life is a lot shittier than mine. Somewhere, there's a high school kid who's just realized that he got the exam schedule mixed up and that the physics exam is tomorrow, not next week; somewhere, there's a businessman who's discovered that he just lost his company millions of bucks in a bad deal; somewhere, there's a doctor who's got to tell worried parents that their kid didn't survive getting hit by a drunk driver. Those are all fucked up situations, but whatcha going to do about it?"

"Deal with it," Tala said, resigned.

"Exactly."

They watched the fine particles floating in the headlights of Michael's car.

"I miss the park," Michael said, juggling his cap from hand to hand.

"What park?"

"Remember when we met in the park? You were out walking Wolborg and I was out jogging. We'd sat down and talked about stuff. You smiled a lot back then, and even laughed at my lamest jokes. I liked that. It was different. You don't smile as often anymore. Wish I could do something about that."

" … _I will make you happy … "_

"I'm finding it increasingly difficult to find anything to smile about these days."

"I went out with a girl the other night," Michael said out of the blue.

" … O-kay. How'd it go?"

"Great, but whenever I stopped thinking about you things went downhill."

Tala rolled his eyes.

"You were thinking about me while on a date with someone else?"

"She kinda looked like you. Red hair, though dyed, and blue eyes, though she was wearing contacts. When I squinted, after four glasses on cheap wine, and didn't look directly at her, I could almost imagine you sitting in her chair. How would you feel about putting on a dress and heels?"

"You're such a jock," Tala snorted, the corners of his mouth curving.

"Made ya smile, though," Michael grinned. "See, fate's not such a bitch after all."

No sooner had he said that when Tala's cell rang.

"Hello?"

"_Mr Ivanov? This is Dr Barthez."_

"Yes?"

"_I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Wolborg's health has taken a turn for the worst."_

Tala sat up, the files slipping off his lap and onto the floor.

"W-What?"

"_I'm afraid the blood transfusion didn't go as well as we thought it would. His heart went into cardiac arrest ten minutes ago—"_

"Shit!"

Michael tried to ask what was being said but Tala silenced him with an abrupt wave of the hand.

"_Please, don't get too upset, sir. We were able to revive him and we're now slowly getting him stabilized, but if this happens again … I'm feel that if he has another attack it'd be for the best if we just let him go."_

"No, I … I … I understand," Tala said.

"_It's not the news I was hoping to give you , but I promised to inform you if any changes occurred."_

"No, t-thank you for calling me."

"_We're still working on him so you won't be able to see him yet, but you are welcomed to come visit him later. It'll be reassuring for both Wolborg and yourself to be in each other's company. By the way, your cousin came in this morning."_

"My cousin?"

"_Yes, a man roughly your age. Said his name was … Yuri Ivanovich."_

"Oh yes … him," Tala said, just barely keeping himself in check, and only because Michael was sitting right next to him. What, was Hiwatari now trying to involve himself in his daily life? As if dominating his every waking thought wasn't intrusive enough? "And what did he want?"

"_He didn't stay long. He said he came to check up on Wolborg for you since he said you had something important to attend to."_

"Around what time was this?"

"_Pretty early. Something to eight, I think."_

"I see. Well, thank you. I'll come by later."

"What happened?" Michael asked.

"Wolborg. They almost lost him," Tala said, mentioning nothing about the unexpected visitor. "If it happens again, they don't think it'll be worth it to try and save him." He leaned back his head and closed his eyes. It was hard, keeping it together when all he wanted to do was scream out all his frustration. "You know what, Michael? Right now, I wish I was that businessman, or that doctor, or that student. Anyone else. Anyone but me."

"And they're all wishing the exact same thing."

Tala jumped when he felt a hand on his knee. He turned to Michael, threatening to lash out at the other for trying to take advantage of the situation, but Michael's face was serious even as he ran his hand up Tala's thigh.

"This isn't about me," he said, pulling Tala closer by the back of the neck. "I wish that this could mean something, but it can't. You and the boss, you mean something. What you two do means something."

"Then what are youdoing?" Tala asks, eyes trailing down as he felt the hand undoing his belt. He grabbed the hand holding him. "You know I don't ... Why bother?"

"Because you need this."

"I can't—"

"Shh … "

The buckle of his belt fell open, hitting the car door solidly as his zipper was yanked open. Tala's breath hitched when a hand slipped inside.

"It's me, Red," Michael whispered to him, hand tenderly stroking him up and down. "You don't have to pretend. I know you want to let it out."

"There's nothing … to let out," Tala gasped even as his eyes began to burn. "I'm … fine … "

"I may be crazy, but I'm not stupid," Michael said, wrapping one arm around Tala's waist while his other hand slowly pumped away. "This morning, outside Polanski's room. You were dying to scream your lungs out, but you keep holding it all in. Things don't get better if you bottle them all up and try to look the other way. The pressure will just build and build until one day you snap and do something really stupid. I've seen more experienced guys crack under the stress. I don't want that to happen to you. I don't want to lose you."

One choked sob was all it took and Tala lost control. Tears began pouring down his cheeks. Michael offered his shoulder to cry on but Tala reached up and desperately locked lips. There was no lust. Not even pleasure. Just desperation.

Why with Michael? Why couldn't he not find this in Bryan, but in Michael?

Gripping the door handle, his breathing grew faster as he pulled Michael down on him, moaning with every stroke when he could spare the breath. Michael continued to whisper encouragement. He kissed gently when needed, feverishly when Tala demanded it. The windows soon fogged over and Tala's skin stuck wetly to the leather seat. He threw back his head with a cry when Michael tightened his hold, teasing his legs farther apart. Tears dripped down his face.

Why with Michael? Because Michael wasn't Bryan. Because he didn't care for Michael in the same way he cared for Bryan. Every kiss he shared with Bryan was tainted by Hiwatari's touch. But with Michael … It was alright to look him in the face and see someone else … It didn't feel so wrong …

"Almost there," Michael panted, staring down with open adoration. "You're almost there."

" … _Do you want to know what I've been wanting to do to you ever since I met you … "_

"Shit," Tala groaned, pressing his head back against the cushion. "Michael!"

" … _I could have had you right here on this bed, and you wouldn't have been able to stop me … "_

Red eyes burned down on him. He heard Michael's voice, but he could almost smell a warm breath, with a hint of Bordeaux …

" … _The next time I get you in my bed, I won't let you up until I've tasted and felt every inch of you … "_

Images of being held down by strong arms, pinned down on a king size bed, at the complete mercy of his captor. Feeling that mouth on him, hungrily lapping at his skin, pulling back only to smirk at him superiorly. Nothing like what Michael was doing. Nothing gentle and considerate. Still, he pressed their mouths together, feeling the hot tongue teasing his.

" … _Next time, I won't have to stop because you'll be begging me to continue, to go harder, to be rougher … "_

Not having a choice. Not wanting one. For once, not needing to be in control. For once, trusting that someone else would know what to do, allowing him a chance to be free to just enjoy …

Fire. He was burning. The eyes were searing him.

" … _I will have you, Officer Ivanov … "_

He grabbed the hand in his pants and squeezed, forcing it to grip him tighter. In his mind, the predatory eyes gleamed and the all-knowing smile widened.

" … _You will be shouting my name for a whole different reason … "_

"K-Ka—Michael!"

His whole body shivered and his abs contracted painfully. With a hissed curse he came at last, dripping over Michael's fingers and onto his thighs. Dropping his head back, he threw an arm over his eyes, mouth open as he sucked in as much air as his lungs could take. The last of the sinful images faded from his mind and he bit his lower lip, his senses returning with a vengeance.

How could he? How could he have thought of _him_, of all people?!

"Fuck," he managed as the hand teased the last few drops out of him before letting him go. He listened as Michael leaned over to reach for something in the back. With weak arms he pulled himself upright, one leg still hooked behind Michael's back. He was shaking all over. He couldn't remember the last a simple handjob it had been so intense. "Fuck."

"Better?" Michael asked, wiping his hand clean on a towel he'd pulled from his gym bag.

"Yeah," Tala breathed out, running a hand through his wet hair. His leg quivered as he extracted it from behind Michael. "Fuck. It was amazing…" he admitted as Michael wiped him clean. "But what about … "

"I told you, this isn't about me," Michael said, tossing the towel behind them. "Just wanted to help take your mind off things."

"You're technique is interesting."

"I'm a creative guy. Sometimes, when I'm feeling inspired, I use my other hand," Michael smiled his goofy smile.

"Now you're just being vulgar," Tala said, adjusting his clothes.

"Vulgar? Dude, you just let me give you a handjob in my car in the police station's garage."

"Point made."

"So … you're okay with this?"

Tala sighed. He was in dire need of a hot shower: he stank of sweat and sex. Or maybe he needed a cold one instead? He wasn't even sure whether he'd be able to walk it to his car and drive himself home.

"It's one hell of a distraction," he said cryptically. He allowed the other to cup his face for a soft kiss. "But it won't ever amount to more than that, Michael."

"I'm cool with that," Michael said, sitting back. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to think back on this the next time I'm with someone."

"Only you could say something like that and not sound like a total pervert."

"Gifted," Michael said, patting himself on the shoulder. "Better go our separate ways now. I think I can squeeze in a small workout at the gym. I refuse to believe that I'm getting out of shape. Maybe I'll drop by your place one of these days. Just to visit," he added when Tala stared at him suspiciously. "Don't worry. I'm not going to turn into some stalker. Don't forget the files."

Leaning back against Eddie's car, which was parked next to Michael's, Tala watched as the SUV purred to life and pulled away with a beep. His knees were stillshaking. He licked his lips, feeling Michael's lips on his but tasting someone else's—No! No. He shouldn't be thinking that. Not even with Michael. Not ever. He would never allow things to go that far. Hiwatari could try all he like, but Tala would sooner pardon Dox than allow himself to be lured into Hiwatari's bed. As long as he stayed well clear of the bluenette's place he'd be safe. Bold as he was, Hiwatari would never try something so long as they only met in public places.

It was a little over three. His personal belongings were already packed, in the trunk of his car, but he needed to buy food to stock up his fridge. And after that he'd go visit Wolborg before going home. It was definitely going to be lonely with neither Wolborg nor Bryan around, but that's just what he needed.

* * *

_**Monday, January 24, 2004**_

_**Time: 19.22**_

Struggling with the shopping bags, his keys clenched between his teeth, Tala passed Yuka's door. First thing tomorrow, before he did anything else, he'd go over for some breakfast to make up for not visiting her in a while. Reaching his door, he had some trouble getting the key in the lock, his arm weighed down by a bag. Just when he almost had it the door opened on it's own.

"Yuka?" he blinked to find the person he'd just been thinking about on the other side.

"Welcome back, dear," she smiled, holding up her frail arms for a hug. She was wearing a nice dress, as if she'd just come back from a party. She squinted up at him, beaming. "Well don't just stand there. Come inside."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, dragging everything in and dumping what was not fragile on the floor.

"When you called earlier saying you were coming back, I thought I'd have a little homecoming for you. Where's Wolborg?"

"He was … in a little accident. I just came back from the clinic. He's getting better." But not much. Still, for the first time since the attack Wolborg had managed to open his eyes and wag his tail weakly when Tala walked in. It had been difficult, not being allowed to hug his pet, but he took what he could get.

"The poor thing! Why didn't you call me? I don't have to work so I could keep him company at the clinic."

"He'll be out in no time," Tala lied, not wanting to reveal the extent of the injuries.

Funny, he didn't remember ever owning that three-legged table in the corridor. That rug before the couch hadn't there when he left. Even the walls looked like they'd been given a fresh coat of paint.

"Ah. Yes, a little redecorating has been done," Yuka said, noticing his staring. "This apartment needed some cleaning, and a few extra pieces of furniture here and there. I thought that you'd want to return to a more homely environment. You don't mind, do you?"

"No," Tala said, "but I wasn't expecting it. And what smells so good?"

"Dinner!" she chirped, clasping her delicate hands together.

"So this is a party?" Tala asked, depositing the bags on the couch. He looked around the newly decorated room. "You really did all of this by yourself? How did you manage?"

"Oh, very well!" she said, "I had some help. Think of this then as both a homecoming dinner for friends and family."

"Family? Who else is coming?"

Yuka couldn't contain her excitement any longer. Beaming, she pointed past Tala.

"Good evening, cousin," Kai Hiwatari smirked, leaning in the kitchen's doorway wearing a cooking apron over his suit, a glass of dark wine in one hand. "Dinner is almost ready. How do you feel about leg of lamb?"

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	19. January 24 II

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

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_**Monday, January 24, 2004**_

_**Time: 19.35**_

"Don't be too long!" Yuka's excited voice called from the kitchen. "Don't want the food to get cold! Just wait until you try this lamb, Tala. I have never tasted anything so delicious in my life!"

"I'll be right there!" Tala called back, closing the door to his bedroom and locking it. He leaned back against the door, eyes wide and chest heaving as he struggled to stay calm. Leaving the shopping bags where he'd carelessly thrown them down, he walked with unsteady steps towards the bathroom, locking that door behind him as well.

'What are you up to, Hiwatari? What are you trying to prove?'

His reflection showed a pale, sweaty face with a dark stain of blush across his cheeks and nose. Holding himself upright against the sink, Tala felt physically sick with the knowledge that Kai Hiwatari was in his home; had violated his privacy yet again. That madman had taken advantage of Yuka's poor sight and friendly nature, used her disadvantages for his own personal gain. Now that he'd gotten what he wanted, what would Hiwatari do to Yuka? She was oblivious to his identity, but would that be enough to convince the man that she was no threat to his plans? She had spoken nothing but highly of him, and he even seemed amused by her. There was no reason for Hiwatari to harm her, but mercy was not something that was to be expected from someone like Hiwatari.

'He won't hurt Yuka,' Tala assured himself as he undressed for a quick shower. 'He would have … done away with her much earlier if that was his intent. And now that I'm here he won't do anything. But why is he here? Does he have something to tell me? Something to give me? Or is he just playing with me?'

And that wasn't the most unnerving aspect of the unexpected visit. What really rattled Tala was that Hiwatari had known from as early as that very morning that Tala would be moving out of Bryan's house. He had heard him purchase that leg of lamb over the phone. Tala hadn't even come to that decision himself: how did Hiwatari know? Stories of the paranormal had never interested him, but there was something about Hiwatari that defied physics and logics.

But now was not the time to figure the man out. He had to deal with Hiwatari now and planned to do so in three steps.

Step 1: get this dinner over and done with.

Step 2: get Yuka to the safety of her appartment.

Step 3: get rid of Hiwatari.

His skin was burning but he placed his head directly under the hot stpray. He thought of nothing but the feel of the water through his hair, on his scalp, down his neck, shoulders, back and chest. For a peaceful moment, he imagined everything; every problem being washed clean off him. He half-expected to open his eyes and find himself back in his dorm room, hearing his classmates arguing on who had eaten the last slice of pizza or whose turn it was to clean the bathroom. Or maybe he'd step out from under the shower and find Bryan shaving at the sink, their disputes solved and their relationship solid. Maybe, if he waited a few more minutes, the phone would ring and it would be the vet with some good news on Wolborg's condition.

Maybe. Always maybe.

Michael's dubious calming tactics had done some good, but even that satisfying thought was overshadowed by the fact that he'd been fantasizing about Hiwatari, almost calling out the man's name. If Hiwatari ever found out about that …

Twisting the shower knob the other way until it could go no more, Tala hissed as the icy water shocked him out of his thoughts, forcing him back on track. By the time he turned the shower off his skin felt numb. He wrapped a towel around him

"Focus. I'm focused," he reminded himself. "I can't let anything distract me."

He entered his bedroom to change.

"Feeling better, officer?"

Inexplicably, Tala wasn't as surprised as he should have been to find Hiwatari sitting on his bed. Was he actually growing used to the man's unexpected ways? He stepped back, nonetheless.

"And who invited you?" he asked coldly.

"Mrs Satomi, of course."

"That invitation does not extend to my bedroom."

"You were taking too long," Hiwatari said, resting with his back against the headboard. "Yuka asked me to check up on you. She didn't think you'd mind, seeing how close we are, _cousin_." He glanced at Tala's exposed chest and smirked. "I never considered the appeal of incest until now."

"Get out."

Standing and stretching, Hiwatari picked up the glass of wine and carried it over to Tala, who refused to give ground, despite wanting to slam the bathroom door in the other's face.

"I know your hearing is just fine, Hiwatari," Tala said when the other ignored his command.

"As is my sense of smell. And I thought," Hiwatari said, leaning against the frame as he watched the rich red liquid in the glass swirl around with the tiniest motion of his wrist, "that I made it clear to you that I will not tolerate of the stench of others on you."

"Not that that's any of your business, but I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Then why was it that I smelled that American colleague of yours the second you entered? You stink of sex, and one quick shower isn't enough to wash it off."

"You're a freak," Tala said, caught in act of lying but not feeling guilty about it.

The red eyes gleamed but Hiwatari calmly planted a hand on the wall next to Tala's head, trapping him there with the dresser on his other side. He took a sip of his glass before putting it on the dresser and grabbing Tala by the chin.

"You are pushing my patience, officer. Push me too far and I will push back, and not too gently either."

"Is that a threat?" Tala pushed away the hand twirling a wet strand of red hair around its finger. He knew he was blushing madly and his skin was so sensitive he could feel the slightest shift in the air, but he fought the temptation. "What if I never submit to you? What would you do then? Kill me?"

The strong taste of alcohol burned his tongue as Hiwatari's slid against it in a possessive kiss that literally made Tala's knees buckle. He had to grab the man in order not to fall, unprepared for the surge of lust. His hands didn't know whether to push the other off him or pull him closer, but he allowed his mouth to be worked by the persistent lips as he almost gagged on the intruding tongue. He felt the hands slide themselves down his sides, teasing the edge of the towel but making no serious attempt to remove it.

"I won't have to do anything," Hiwatari said, withdrawing to lick Tala's lips appreciatively. "By the time I'm ready to take you, you will be begging for it."

Tala couldn't respond to that. He didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't know what he wanted. He sighed as Hiwatari suckled the old hickey, and quivered as a hand lightly ran over his stomach. His breath caught as he remembered how those same hands had brutally ended the lives of many others; how that mouth had spoken so callously about the killings. Staring into the red eyes that watched him with barely concealed lust, he knew he could have well been staring into the eyes of a demon: so filled with power, wrath and want.

The hands and mouth pulled away, leaving him to grip the dresser for support. The glass of wine was held out to him.

"You're too tense, cousin," Hiwatari said. "Drink. You will feel better."

Taking the glass, Tala emptied it in one gulp. His tongue came out to lick a small drop of wine off the corner of his mouth but another tongue beat him to it.

"If we were in my domain, in my bed, you'd be screaming your throat raw by now," Hiwatari whispered huskily. "And that wouldn't have been the only part of you that was sore." He kissed a flushed cheek and grinned as he stepped back, perfectly composed. "The food should be on the table by now. Don't keep us waiting, or I might have to come back in to check up on you again."

Taking the empty glass with him, he winked and left, closing the door behind him.

It took Tala longer to get to the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face before slamming his fist so hard into the mirror it cracked.

What had just happened, and why had he allowed it? He shouldn't have let the other touch him, kiss him, let alone longed for it! The man was a mind reader. He had heard Tala's promise to himself to stay on track, and he'd come into the room with the sole intent to mess with him.

"Pathetic. You can do better," he told his reflection hatefully. "You don't take this kind of treatment from anyone. No one tells you how to live, and no one bullies you. No one, Ivanov. Not the other kids, or the workers at the orphanage. You don't let the likes of Johnny McGregor or Boris Balcov walk all over you. It doesn't matter who Hiwatari thinks he is: he is just another outside. Don't let him in. Don't let anyone in."

His knuckles were bleeding. Running cold water over the cuts took him back ...

Him, kneeling in the snow, staring at his father's motionless body. He heard the panicky voices of the poachers shouting at each other, at him, but he just sat there in the numbing snow, looking into his father's unblinking eyes. Blue eyes, like his. It had been a quick death. So quick that they hadn't been able to share any last words. One moment his father had been telling him to get down, the next the shots went off and his father slumped over, gone forever.

His cuts were no longer bleeding.

"For once, you didn't have control of the situation, father. You lost control and it killed you. What if that happens to me? If I lose control, what will happen to me … ?"

Wrapping his hand, he got dressed and exited the room with no more confidence then when he'd entered it.

He could hear Yuka talking excitedly as she moved about inside the kitchen, making last minute changes to the table, which had been set for a cosy meal between close friends. Seeing Japan's most wanted criminal sitting behind the fine China that Yuka had brought over from her place made Tala's skin crawl.

'How do you do it? ' Tala wondered as he was led to his seat by Yuka. 'How can you live with yourself, knowing what you've done?'

"What happened with your hand?" Yuka asked when she felt the rough texture of the bandage.

"Just a small cut. Didn't want to get blood on the tablecloth."

Hiwatari shook his head knowingly, but made no move to complicate things.

It being a round table for four meant there was no way for him to keep a distance from Hiwatari, especially since Yuka had claimed the spot right opposite the man for herself, leaving Tala to sit between them, his back to the fridge.

"Makes me wish I was young again," Yuka said, putting down the oven mittens and looking over the layout with squinty eyes. "I would love to see this set in all its clear glory."

"It looks magnificent," Hiwatari said, wrapping her tighter and tighter around his little finger. "Had I known you were such a great cook I would have come to visit much sooner."

"Isn't he a charmer?" Yuka laughed and turned to Tala, who could just manage a tight smile. "I can see that you two are related. Such polite young men with fine taste. The girls must be throwing themselves at you, Yuri."

"I've been out of the dating game for a while," Hiwatari answered, standing to pull out her chair for her. "I still have to adjust to being around others, let alone courting young women."

"Well, it won't be long until you've wooed a very lucky someone."

"I prefer to sit and wait for the right moment. What about you, Tala?" Hiwatari asked, picking up the carving knife and sharpening it with frightening professionalism.

"I'm seeing someone," Tala said.

"Anything serious?" Hiwatari asked, faking interest.

"Yes."

"And you are sure that this person is right for you?"

"Yes," Tala said, never making eye contact.

"Really? Are you sure?" Hiwatari asked and tilted the knife, aiming its deadly tip at the back of Yuka's neck while she served them both rice, unaware that a blade was an inch away from severing her spinal cord. "No regrets?"

Tala clenched his hands together, resisting the desire to jump to his feet: Hiwatari would need little provocation to fulfil his threat.

"Gravy on yours, Yuri?" Yuka asked without looking behind her, her delicate hand trembling under the weight of the plate she held.

"Yes, please," Hiwatari said pleasantly, making a slicing motion behind her, from one side of her neck to the other. "Well, if that is the case, Tala, I would like to meet this love of your life."

"We'll discuss it later," Tala said. He took a mouthful of wine for courage. "Are you going to carve the lamb or not? I'm hungry."

"Show Tala how will you can carve," Yuka said, turning around to face Hiwatari, who had already taken a couple steps back and was looking perfectly harmless. She turned back to Tala. "Your cousin is extremely skilled with a knife. Did you know that?"

"I've heard about it," Tala said flatly.

"It's all in the arms and wrists," Hiwatari said as he walked around the table to stand over the steaming leg of lamb that was the centrepiece. "I hate to brag, but I can remove flesh from bone with a butter knife."

And he did, carving up the leg so smoothly it was like he was scraping butter off a surface. Tala felt his stomach roll and feared he would throw up in his plate. He settled it by emptying his glass.

"Are you a hunter?" Yuka asked as she held out her plate to accept the finely cut slices. "My husband used to hunt, you know. He was good at handling his knives. He and his friends used to go on safari in Africa. I never really liked it, and it lost its appeal to him soon enough."

"Then we have something in common," Hiwatari said. "I do not condone the mindless slaughter of innocent animals."

"What's wrong?" Yuka asked when Tala managed to turn a discrediting laugh into a cough.

"Nothing." Other than that Hiwatari had cold-heartedly slaughtered innocent people and was now championing morality. "Something went down the wrong pipe."

Yuka led them into a short prayer, eyes shut and unaware of Tala glaring at Hiwatari over his joint hands while the red eyes twinkled back maliciously. Tala didn't even hear her words and only joined in at the end with little conviction.

"I hope we'll be able to finish off all this," Yuka said as she took her first bite, continuing only after swallowing. "Delicious, Yuri! You certainly are a jack of all trades. I just might eat everything all by myself."

"Thank you, though you might have to fight me for seconds," Hiwatari said, earning a girlish giggle. He poked at his own food and sighed. "Still, I seem to have lost my earlier craving for lamb. I'm still hungry, but for something else … "

Tala ignored him, keeping his eyes on his plate. He ate slowly, barely tasting anything. Yuka started on another subject and Hiwatari left him alone for now, smiling and sharing jokes with the woman, looking so at ease that it pissed Tala off more and more as the minutes passed by. The man was right here, sitting right next to him, flaunting his freedom.

'You've killed. You have ended lives, broken families, and you have no remorse. Why should you … ? Why should you get away with it? You don't deserve to be out in the streets, shopping and dining while Japan lives in fear of you. How can you laugh with a woman whose life you threatened a moment ago? What are you thinking, Hiwatari? What goes on in that mind of yours?'

"Tala, you've hardly touched your food," Yuka noticed, hers and Hiwatari's plate almost empty.

"Perhaps he prefers another sort of meat," Hiwatari said with thinly veiled humour as he scooped out some more vegetables for him and Yuka.

"Enough," Tala hissed to the man next to him, glad that the innuendo had gone right over Yuka's head.

The bastard had the nerves to look puzzled before nodding in understanding.

"Ah. You're going through another vegetarian stage, aren't you? Didn't you promise Uncle Stefan that you would look after yourself?"

"Where did you hear my father's—?"

"He was just as bad as a teen," Hiwatari said to Yuka. "It started when he was in the orphanage in Moscow. He almost starved himself to death when they sent him to live in a foster home some 90 kilometres away. He was then sent to Perm, only to be sent back a couple of years later. The last time I saw him before today was after he'd left the children's home in Saint Petersburg in 1997, just one year before it was forced to close its doors for good. Luckily, he was always a prime student. I was pleased to hear he'd taken an interest in criminology. So it's good to see that you've pulled yourself together, cousin. Don't fall back now."

Tala could only stare at the man, until Yuka reached out and took hold of his hand.

"You should listen to your cousin, dear. He's only looking out for your best interest." She smiled at Hiwatari and held out her hand to him, which he took gently. "I hope you'll be staying for a while, Yuri. So much has been going on lately and I worry about Tala. I really do. He needs someone who knows him to be there for him."

"Hiwa—Yuri is only passing through," Tala said, shaking it off. "If I need advice or support I always go to Bryan. _He_ is all I need."

"Is he?" Hiwatari challenged, happy to pick up where they'd left off. "I was under the impression that the two of you had a bit of a falling out. Besides, you know me, Tala: to just walk away from you know would be … unsatisfying."

"Perhaps you could move in," Yuka said, almost making Tala cut himself with his own knife as it slid from his grip. "Oh, careful, dear. But I was listening to the news this morning and its awful, what's been happening. People are being attacked in their own homes, or tracked down in their hotel rooms. It's a dangerous time for anyone to be living on their own."

"In that case _you_ should move in with me," Tala said. "Yuri can take care of himself, and I would feel more at ease if you weren't alone."

"Actually," Yuka said, wiping her mouth daintily on a napkin, "I'm going away for a while."

Hiwatari, watching the exchange with a wolfish smirk, looked at Tala with a victorious gleam in his eyes.

"A-Away?" Tala asked. "Where are you going? When? Why? Is everything alright?"

"It's not an emergency. Only, I got a letter from friend of mine who lives just outside of Kyoto. I may not have any family left but I have been around long enough to make a few friends, though most of them live too far away to visit regularly. Still, after hearing what's been happening in Tokyo she wrote me and invited me to come stay with her in the country. I'm really looking forward to it. I have been among concrete and pavement for too long. Some greenery and open air would do more good than harm."

She spoke with such excitement Tala could only feel happy for her. But then she paused and adopted a concerned look, as if ashamed with herself.

"Listen to me," she said, "talking about such things when you are going through such a difficult time. I think we should just have some dessert and then I'll go pack. It'll give you two some time to bond. Yuri, make sure Tala eats something before he goes to bed."

"I'll persuade him."

"Touch me again and I'll—" Tala fiercely whispered across the table as Yuka carried the plates to the sink. Hiwatari silenced him with a finger on the mouth.

"There is something we have to discuss," Hiwatari said before gathering the glasses and carrying them over to the countertop. "Leave the dishes. You've done your share for this evening."

"He is so lovely," Yuka whispered to Tala when she retook her seat, while Hiwatari served their dessert. "Such a gentleman. I feel as if I've gone back in time, back to the old days when young men were truly proper."

"He's one of a kind," Tala agreed with little enthusiasm, though curious as to what Hiwatari wanted to talk about.

"When I get back I want the three of us to go out for a nice dinner somewhere. Will he be staying long, you think? Would he like that, a meal out? It's just that he seems like such a low-key person. I get the impression that he likes to avoid crowds, which is surprising considering how good a host he is."

"I don't know how long he'll be staying," Tala said as Hiwatari returned with their desert on a tray: vanilla and chocolate ice cream covered in hot caramel and topped with crushed almonds, with a small slice of cake. "But giving his nature I suspect he'll be on the move soon."

Hiwatari served Yuka her dessert with a smile and handed Tala his with a deadpan look.

"So when exactly will you be leaving for your friend?" he then asked Yuka.

"Tomorrow. It will only be for a couple of weeks. She's coming to pick me up. She's twenty years younger than me but we always have so much to talk about." She giggled, frail hands covering her mouth. "It's funny how young a couple of old birds like us can feel when we get together to drink tea and talk about the old days. I would invite you to come with me, Tala, but you would probably grow bored listening to us cackle, and I'm sure your schedule is also busy, Yuri. I can take pictures if you like. Yes, I'll do that. Her house is surrounded by the most beautiful gardens!"

"We hope you enjoy yourself," Hiwatari said and it was all Tala could do to refrain himself from demanding that the man not make statements on his behalf.

Tala left his dessert virtually untouched (and part of him determined he did so because he didn't trust it, seeing as Hiwatari had made them individually) and when Yuka announced her decision to retire to her own apartment he jumped to his feet and offered to walk her to her door.

"Good, then I can start on the dishes," Hiwatari said as he rolled up his sleeves, though leaned in to allow Yuka to kiss him on the cheeks. "It was a pleasure, Mrs Satomi. I will cherish this meal."

"Oh, there will be others," she dismissed brightly.

"Oh, but one can never be too sure about that," he returned just as cheerfully.

Tala quickly steered a somewhat puzzled Yuka out the kitchen. Her place being just down the hall she hadn't brought a coat so they could just walk straight out the door. He was concerned that Hiwatari had done or said something in parting that now had Yuka rethinking things, but she relieved his mind when she asked him to remember to tell 'Yuri' not to forget the pan in the oven.

"Do you need a ride to the station?" he asked her as she searched her large purse for her keys.

"No, no. You have to work. I'll call a taxi to come pick me up. Ah, you know what, my friend is knowledgeable in the power of healing herbs. I will ask her for some of her best roots for Wolborg when he gets home. She once got rid of a neighbour's child's chickenpox using only the plants in her garden! Wolborg will be home by the time I return, won't he?"

"The vet seems pretty optimistic," Tala lied. "But your friend is right: take this time off to forget about things. Just enjoy yourself and bring me back something regional, preferably edible."

"Oh you! I certainly will," she laughed, opening her door. She then turned, serious, and poked him in the chest with a finger. "You take care of yourself. Your cousin couldn't have shown up at a more suitable time. I got the feeling that you aren't too happy to see him, but whatever your differences I know you can work it out. In the end you'll be grateful for Yuri's presence."

"I'll feel better when this is all over," Tala answered evasively. Pecking her on the cheek, he waited until she closed her door before sighing to himself. "I can't _wait_ until this is all over."

Back in his apartment he didn't lock the door behind him. Hope fluttered in his chest when he didn't hear the sound of running water and clacking plates. In fact, the place was silent. Had Hiwatari done another runner? Had he only shown up to pester Tala for dinner? Tala wouldn't put it past him, but the unmistakable essence of evil (well, that's what it felt like to him) was still strong in here. Hiwatari was still around. He hadn't gone far, actually, as Tala realized when he peeked into the kitchen.

"Lucky for her that she's going to her friend, isn't it?" Hiwatari asked, reading at the table. The counter that had been stacked with plates, glasses, silverware, pots and pans just minutes ago was empty; everything had been washed and dried and neatly returned to its rightful place. And Hiwatari had managed to get his hands on Tala's notes, which were providing him with light entertainment as he went through them. Next to his chair was a briefcase that Tala didn't recognize as his. "If she'd accepted your offer to move in with you I'm afraid I would have had to dispose of her. She amuses me, being so lively despite her desolate life, but you almost put her in a dangerous situation, officer. Think things through next time or someone might get hurt."

"How did you … ?" Tala asked, still trying to figure out how Hiwatari had managed to wash everything up so quickly. Abandoning that mystery, however, he turned to more important matters. "If you ever threaten Yuka like you did tonight again I'll never forgive you."

"I don't want your forgiveness," Hiwatari said, tossing down the folder he'd been going through with a bored look. The simmering eyes watched Tala as he hesitantly sat down opposite him. Then he smiled, like a business partner engaging his fellow man in conversation over lunch. "And how was your day?"

"How did you get into Polanski's room?"

"Ah yes, the photos," Hiwatari said, pulling out the envelope containing them, having swiped them from Tala's briefcase. "Not particularly tasteful, are they? I found them around the body, though it was I who was considerate enough to put them in chronological order. You can't tell from these pictures, but Polanski was breathing up until the first car pulled up in front of the hotel."

"He was alive? You knew he was still breathing when you were there and you did nothing?"

"Do something? Why would I? He chose to die rather than live with such a disfigurement. I would have been going against a dying man's wishes if I'd tried to revive him. Besides, that would mean putting myself at risk at leaving evidence at the scene and getting caught."

"Why do I keep expecting you to show some human decency?" Tala sighed, cradling his head.

"I blame that endearingly naivety of yours, which I also hold accountable for persuading you into bedding the American."

"I will sleep with whoever I want!" Tala snapped, then quickly added, "_If_ I want to, that is. So you evaded security and just stood there watching someone die in their own bed, then you took these photos and somehow drove my car, without hotwiring it, to the back of the hotel and left it and these photos for me to find."

"And the CD," Hiwatari reminded.

"You play good piano. Congratulations. There's one commendable thing about you," Tala said dryly. "Whether the photos are useful to us or not, you've tampered with evidence from a crime scene. Is your newest mission in life to make life more difficult for the police? Is this just petty grudge, Hiwatari?"

"I didn't take these photos, but they tell nothing more than a tragic tale," Hiwatari said as he lined them up on the table like a morbid picture book. "A young man's last living moments caught on 18 Polaroids. Rather odd, however, don't you think?"

Tala studied the pictures. 'Odd' was an understatement.

"I _would _wonder how Dox was able to get into Polanski's bedroom ahead of him, but, then again, you managed to weasel your way in there as well," he said.

Hiwatari poured himself another glass of wine.

"True, but even I cannot be in two places at the same time."

Tala went over every picture one more time and almost leapt out of his chair when he realized what Hiwatari was hinting at. Massaging the lump in his throat, he couldn't suppress the shiver down his spine.

"The angles," he said, walking himself through it, hoping to find a stumbling block that would prove them both wrong. "The first photo of him entering the hotel could have been taken secretly by someone in hiding, but the photo in the elevator was taken right next to Polanski, as was the one in the hall and in front of the suite's door. After taking the first picture, Dox had actually walked right up to Polanski and accompanied him to his room, snapping pictures the entire time. Either Polanski was too drunk to care, or he knew Dox from before. But … "

Hiwatari said nothing, content to watch him work it out himself.

"But if Polanski knew Dox, and let him into his suite, then why does he look so surprised when he enters the bathroom? Either he'd thought that Dox was somewhere else in the suite or … or there was someone else. That means that … Dox isn't working alone."

"As is evident in photo number 19," Hiwatari said and picked up a briefcase next to his chair. Without allowing Tala a chance to see the contents, he removed a small envelop and tossed the photo it contained onto the table. "I held onto this one to see whether you'd figure it out yourself."

It was almost identical to the one in which Polanski was surprised upon entering the bathroom, only now there was the silhouette of someone in the background, but it was too dark in the bedroom to see anything more than a black shape just behind the ambushed model.

"Two," Tala confirmed in shock. "Dox isn't one person, but two."

"Perhaps," Hiwatari still said. "There is also the possibility that Polanski was in the company of a friend and that Dox simply got rid of the spare and used their camera to continue taking photos himself."

"If we had the camera we'd know for sure whether it was handled by more than one person."

"I searched for it but the only camera I found belonged to Polanski and it wasn't an instant one."

"Polanski knew, or was at least familiar enough to be comfortable with, the person who took the first few photos," Tala said. "And if it was a friend of Polanski who accompanied him to his suite then maybe that same friend had let the second person in as well. Or ... Or perhaps Polanski knew both of them but just wasn't expecting to find one of them in the bathroom." He suddenly remembered something. "You knew Polanski."

Having been enjoying his wine, Hiwatari looked at him emotionlessly. Tala knew that somewhere deep down he'd struck something, though it definitely wasn't guilt.

"You and Granger and a boy named Max Tate stayed at Polanski's home in France for the holiday, according to your school files. And your families have a long history of business connections."

"And how convenient that I was the first on the scene of the crime this morning," Hiwatari said. "Let me make something perfectly clear, officer: I take pride in my work and if I were the one who'd committed these murders I'd own up to them. As intrigued as I am, I am not responsible. Besides, I was just on my way back to the city when Polanski killed himself."

"Coming back to the city from where?"

"An old friend."

"A friend?"

"An old one. So then," Hiwatari put down his glass, "this has been a pleasant night, cousin. Seeing as you won't be getting any visits from your little neighbour I might drop by again soon."

"Unlikely."

"Would you rather come visit me in my home, then?"

" … _The next time I get you in my bed I won't let you up until I've tasted every inch of you … "_

"Highly unlikely. You're really pushing your luck, Hiwatari. Sooner or later you'll slip up, someone will notice, and you'll be back behind bars."

"Well," Hiwatari said, considering the possibility, "at least I wouldn't have to put up with the likes of Boris anymore. Funny, it's only been a week since I checked out of the asylum."

"_Escaped_. You escaped, you psycho, at the expense of many lives."

"Escaping takes a lot of effort, which my actions didn't."

Power. This man just had absolute power. He could have easily escaped from the asylum years ago. It just seemed impossible to contain the man if he was unwilling to be contained, and the hope of ridding himself of Hiwatari once the law caught up with him was fading fast for Tala. The sinking reality was that no matter what he threw at Hiwatari the man could either dodge or withstand without even flinching.

"I'm almost disappointed that you haven't made more progress," Hiwatari said, corking the wine. "So I'll leave you to it as we both have a lot to do."

"What are you up to?"

Tala didn't bother objecting when Hiwatari leaned over the table and took him by the chin. A silver bullet to the head, or a wooden stake to the heart; those were perhaps the only way to stop the man. Instead, he just stared at the other with weary contempt.

"I'm sure you'd love to know," Hiwatari said, tracing the underside of Tala's lip with his thumb. "If it makes you feel better, I'll try to keep the body count low this time."

And he walked out, into the living room, leaving Tala to follow like a lost child in his own home. He found Hiwatari standing before the glass doors that lead out onto the balcony, watching over the city he held in his bloodied grip. And somewhere in that same city, another murderer was enjoying his latest successful killing.

Coming to stand dangerously close to the man, Tala still had no decent argument to try to talk the other out of his plans. Desperate, he spent all of a second weighing what was more important: his values or people's lives. He'd had so many opportunities to try and bring down Hiwatari, but hadn't. If he was going to continue to let the man enjoy freedom it was his responsibility to the public to protect them from Hiwatari as well.

This promise to the people was a very small comfort as he did the unthinkable: he kissed Hiwatari. He initiated it, forcefully pressing their lips together. There was a brief thrill of power when the other didn't react at once, then a shameful shiver of desire when Hiwatari dropped his briefcase to pin Tala to the glass. As he allowed the bold tongue to stroke his Tala knew that Hiwatari had to be aware of what he was trying to do: it was only a question of whether the other would appreciate it enough to curb his murderous intents.

"No more, Hiwatari," Tala said, hands behind the taller man's neck. When Hiwatari didn't agree fast enough Tala kissed him again, this time pressing his entire body against the other's. Hiwatari's lips attacked his with such need that Tala's mouth felt numb afterwards; that and his warring mind made it almost impossible for him to remember why he was doing this in the first place. "You don't give a damn about the law, and you don't think highly of human life, but at least respect them both … for me."

Hiwatari, running a hand under Tala's shirt and over the sensitive skin of his lower back, looked like he was more interested in finishing what Tala had started, but he saw the desperation in Tala's eyes. He smirked.

"You should be more careful," he said, leaning with one arm against the door above Tala's head. Tala's bare skin touched the cold glass and he pulled away with a jerk, brushing against Hiwatari. "You've just put yourself in a position that I can exploit to my liking. Exactly how far are you willing to go to spare those lowlifes out there?"

"You've made it very clear what you want; at least do this for me in return."

"I don't have to make deals with you to get what I want."

"Quid pro quo," Tala reminded. "This for that. If you want something from me you owe me something in return."

Hiwatari smiled, amused that Tala had remembered their conversations in the asylum. Still, Tala waited with bated breath as the man considered. He didn't resist when Hiwatari kissed him again, as if trying to determine whether a willing Tala would be worth sparing meddlers' lives. Worried that Hiwatari would remain unconvinced, Tala could already feel the guilt of the deaths to come at the hands of the bluenette. With a major blow to his self-respect, he reached down and unbuckled his belt.

"Is this what it's going to take?" he asked Hiwatari, who watched as his hands undo his zipper, revealing his underwear. "Do it then. Against the wall? On the floor? Over the balcony wall? Do what you want with me but swear you will not harm anyone once you leave here."

Hiwatari said nothing for a long time. How driven was his lust to kill? What would it take to subdue it? Tala, out of options, was about to admit defeat, when Hiwatari suddenly turned him around, forcing him to support himself against the cold glass. Staring out at the neon-lit city, Tala was relieved, knowing that this was a wordless accord. His hands tightened into fists in nervous anticipation as he spread his legs slightly. An arm around his middle pulled his lower half back against the other's groin, but the voice behind him was neither victorious nor eager.

"Am I supposed to be honoured?"

Tala tried to look behind him but an ungentle hand in his hair forced him to face forward. There was no mistaking the unimpressed tone in Hiwatari's voice, though. To further his point Hiwatari gave Tala's head a painful shake, almost knocking it against the glass. For the first time ever, Hiwatari was looking at him with complete disgust. He released Tala roughly, making him bump into the back of the couch.

"Unlike the American, I will not exploit your desperation for my own satisfaction," Hiwatari said, though he trapped Tala by planting his fists on either side of him. "If your ass is all I wanted I would have claimed it that night I left the asylum and waited for you in your kitchen. Sex I can get elsewhere, wherever and whenever I want it. That you will so willingly give it for such trivial reasons is not something I expected of you, officer."

"Human lives are not trivial," Tala shot back, doing up his pants with a burning face.

"I will not have you whoring yourself for those unworthy insects. You are more valuable than them. I will forgive you this one time but if you ever attempt to cheapen yourself, be it for myself or others, I will not be so considerate."

"For fuck's sake! I don't know where I stand with you! One moment you're straddling me on your bed, the next you want me to play the innocent virgin! This is just a game to you!"

"And every game has its own set of rules," Hiwatari said. His anger had dissipated, leaving only stern dominance. "1, _I_ am the one who will decide when, where and why I will bed you, and 2, for every time you're unfaithful to me, you can expect a fresh body on the street the next day."

"You think that I will just cut Bryan out of my life? Your superiority complex astounds me," Tala said sourly, slipping past Hiwatari, who let him go but wasn't backing down from his rules. The man even allowed Tala to take him by the wrist and pull him into the hallway, to the front door. "Go home, Hiwatari. Go back to your lair and leave me alone."

"If you 'care' for your Captain, and his safety, I suggest you end it," Hiwatari said, not taking his coat when Tala held it out to him. "Your relationship is already crumbling."

"I'm loyal to Bryan!" Tala insisted, throwing down the coat.

"Only when in the same room with him."

"What happened between Michael and me was nothing, and nothing I will ever do with you will mean a damn thing. You can't force someone to love you. It only makes me hate you more. And what would you know about loyalty, Hiwatari? Here you are trying to claim ownership over me while Ray Kon continues to love and worry over you."

"And whose fault is that? Who's the one who tried to keep us separated when I was released from the asylum?"

"You escaped—Wait ... _Tried_ to keep you two separated?" Tala's eyes narrowed. "Who was that friend you talked about visiting last night?"

Realizing he had yet something else to bait Tala with, Hiwatari smirked.

"An old classmate. I just happened to see him in a little restaurant yesterday and decided to pay him a surprise visit later that evening."

"Fuck!" Tala yelled, slamming his bare knuckles against the solid wall, only just avoiding several fractures. Despite the rush of angry adrenaline he suddenly felt too tired. He should drill Hiwatari as to how he'd managed to track down Ray, and what had happened, but now he was really too overcome by Hiwatari's scheming to continue. Staring at the wall, his back to the other, he said, "Get out."

"He was all alone when I came calling, looking so bored and miserable when he first opened the door," Hiwatari shared, leaning against the wall next to Tala, who could feel the red eyes watching him. "He looked like he'd seen a ghost, but then he could barely contain his joy." Hiwatari looked down at his feet in contemplation for a moment, smirking. "When I first saw him again in the restaurant, after all these years, I was temporarily struck with the realization of how I'd forgotten just how exotic he is. That picture you showed me in the Lair had been nothing but a blank piece of paper. In person, he's exquisite."

"I want you to leave now."

"He was panicky at first when he let me in; kept asking how I'd found him and saying that his housemates could be coming back soon. Always something of a worrier. Tyson used to liken him to a mother hen. To keep himself busy he offered me something to drink and eat but it was obvious to us both what we both wanted."

Tala pushed himself away from the wall but this time Hiwatari did block him, holding him against the door.

"Yes, I fucked him," he said, making Tala wince and look away. "Right there, in the kitchen of that quaint little house the law put him in for his own protection. I pinned him down as he encouraged me. His hair was loose, hanging over the table edge, and he purred and hissed as I rammed into him. He told me he loved me, and that he wouldn't tell a soul if I promised to come visit him again, and that he wanted us to leave Japan together, to live peacefully somewhere else. He cried as he dug his nails into my arms and back. He cried so much that he was hoarse by the time he came. He could only gasp my name and whispered that, for the first time in five years, he was happy again. The entire time we fucked, while he was professing his love for me, do you know who I was thinking of?"

"Shut up," Tala warned, tensing.

"You."

The punch landed perfectly, snapping the man's head back with enough force to send a few drops of blood splattering. Hiwatari didn't reel, however, and simply looked at Tala with unreadable eyes. Tala cracked his knuckles, ready to defend himself from any retaliatory strike, but Hiwatari did not get physical.

"Offended, officer?" he asked, dabbing at his bleeding lip with a finger. "You shouldn't be. That was a compliment. I've only barely tasted you, yet still I have been starving for you, even whilst being offered an easy meal. Besides, isn't that what you did with the American? You have no romantic connection with that Yankee, and with you and your dear Captain's relationship on the rocks I doubt you were thinking about him. Who's name was it on your lips when you came on the American's hand, officer?"

"At least I wasn't thinking about someone else while fucking my boyfriend!" Tala said, indirectly affirming Hiwatari's accusation.

"Ex-boyfriend."

"Ray doesn't think of it like that. You came to him, so he must think that you want to get back together."

"I knew I wanted you when we first met, but I had also intended on pursuing Ray from the very beginning. I even entertained the idea of the three of us together ... However, last night I saw and felt for myself that Ray no longer matters. Perhaps a convenient substitute now and then, but when I win our little game he will no longer be relevant."

"Even if you weren't a sick bastard, do you honestly think I'd want to be with someone who claims and discards others so easily?" When Hiwatari didn't comment—just stared at him with a thoughtful look—Tala shifted uncomfortably. "What?"

"Hn? Ah, just wondering whether you're a screamer or a moaner in bed. You're rather vocal most of the time, so a screamer is most likely."

"You said that you wanted to make me happy," Tala said, staring at the man, at a complete loss. "You also said that you were looking forward to me cracking under the pressure; that you wanted to hear every last piece of me hit the floor. And right now, the only thing I can conclude from those two wishes, the only thing that will relieve me, make me happy, and give you the satisfaction of seeing me break, is for me to die. Is that what you mean, Hiwatari? Do you want me to die?"

"Do _you_ want to? It must have been horrifying, when you and your father were surrounded by those poachers. As a child, it must have shaken you to the core; being forcefully separated from daddy must have been traumatizing. Vulnerable, kneeling in the snow, with guns pointed at your heads, you were undoubtedly scared, though I'm sure your father put up a brave front for your sake. One last desperate look between the two of you, then gunshots, and your father was dead. And, for a split second, you envied him, didn't you?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"While you sat there, crying and filled with lonely fear, you saw the look of peace on your father's face and you envied him, because he'd been set free. And you wanted that as well. You wanted out of the situation. You wanted to be with your father, the only person you'd ever had, ever loved, and you realized that there was only one way for the two of you to be together again. You were almost disappointed when you were saved, because as you were led away to alleged safety you knew deep down that your only hope of happiness and peace was being left behind with your father's corpse. So then, the question is not whether I want you to die: it's whether _you_ want to die."

Picking up his coat, Hiwatari brushed it off and pulled it on. Tala was unaware of the tear running down his cheek until Hiwatari kissed it away, transferring the salty taste to Tala's tongue.

"And you know just as well as I do the answer to that question," he said in a low voice. "You're just too scared, because no matter which one you pick, it will never make up for you abandoning your father to death." He smiled coldly and tenderly kissed Tala's bandaged knuckles. "I'll see myself out. You have something to answer to, anyway."

Hiwatari headed back to the living room, towards the balcony doors. Tala didn't even have time to wonder what he meant by that last part when an urgent knock on the front door made him jump.

"Who is it?"

"Officer Ivanov? Tala? It's me, Ray. I really need to talk to you!" said the shaky voice on the other side.

"I … " Tala fretted, "I'll be right there!"

He ran to the living room, and it was empty, though the balcony doors were closed. He checked his bedroom, the bathroom and the kitchen, but there as no one else in the apartment. Hurrying back to the door, he shook his head firmly and opened the door, letting in a twitchy Ray Kon, who immediately started pacing, so distressed he failed to even noticed Tala's less-than-collected appearance.

"I shouldn't be here," he said before Tala could even ask him what's wrong. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. I didn't want to say anything but the longer I kept quiet the more I thought and the more I thought the less certain I got and now I don't know what to do anymore! I want to do the right thing but I now don't know what's right anymore and if I do the wrong thing things will might get really bad and—"

"Ray, stop it and take a deep breaths." Tala wanted to take the other by the shoulder but loathed to touch the poor man because he knew exactly why Ray had searched him out. He pretended otherwise. "What's wrong? You shouldn't be out."

"I stayed put, just like the police told me, but … but last night … " Ray made a tortured sound and sank down, rubbing his head maddeningly. Tala had to get down to his level to hear what he said next. "Mariah and Lee went out last night to the movies, to get some alone time, and I was cool with that and was just watching some TV when the doorbell rang. I thought they'd forgotten something so I just opened the door and … and there was someone else there … " Ray bit his lower lip hard, almost in tears. "I promised not to tell but I don't want others to get hurt again … Tala, last night … Kai came to the house."

Tala almost blurted out "I know", stopping himself just in time and succeeding in looking surprised.

"I didn't know what to do. I mean, I'd wished for the day I could see him again, but not like this. Everything's so messed up and I knew that I should have called the police, but … I couldn't, Tala." He covered his mouth, as if to stop himself from throwing up. "I'm sick. Only a sick person would have done what I did. All those people he's killed, and all I could think of was how great it was to see him in person again. All the things he's done, and I let him kiss me as if nothing had ever happened."

"Ray … " Tala tried to say but words failed him.

The neko-jin stood and paced the hallway, rubbing his arms through his coat, looking lost and pained.

"I'm sick," he repeated. "We made love last night. Right there in the kitchen. Mariah, Lee and I ate breakfast in that kitchen the next morning! Kai made love to me and I wanted him to do it, and I didn't give a damn about what he'd done in the past. It's not right! I shouldn't be thinking these things, right? Right, Tala?"

"You have a past together," Tala said lamely, looking off to the side. "You felt the way you did, not because you're a bad person, but because you love him, and love is blinding."

"You're not mad?" Ray asked, rubbing teary eyes. "I haven't told anyone else, not even Lee. Especially not Lee. But I had to tell someone because I don't know what to do myself. Kai said that he'd come back to see me again, and I want him to, but … " He stopped.

"But what?"

This time the pain in the amber eyes hurt Tala deeply.

"Kai doesn't love me anymore."

"But you just said—"

"I might not know everything there is to know about Kai, but I know everything about him when it comes to me, and I could tell that last night he wasn't as … enthusiastic as I would have hoped. At least, not in the beginning. Even when we were making love, despite it having been years, I could feel that I wasn't the only person on his mind. I think he has eyes for someone else," Ray said tiredly, his emotions beginning to drain him. "And the more he thought about that person, the more excited he got."

"Do you really think that, given the fact that he's got the law on his heels, Hiwatari would have the time to be with someone?" Tala asked nervously.

"Kai can do anything he sets his mind to," Ray said. "If he really wanted to see me he would have found me the same day he got out. Instead, he took his time. I think it's because he was occupied with that other person."

"Why are you telling me all this? What do you want me to do about it?"

The yellow eyes turned to give him a fell accusatory stare.

"Because I want to hear the truth from you."

Tbc …

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	20. January 27

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

* * *

_**Thursday, January 27, 2004**_

_**Time: 11.55**_

"Whoa, whoa! Leave some for the rest of us."

Wiping the sweat from his jaw, Tala stepped aside to give Michael his turn at the punching bag. He had to admit that, although Michael and Eddie had to practically abduct him an hour ago in order to get him down into the gym, he was glad to be able to blow off some steam.

"You've been cooped up in here for the past two days," Michael had said over Tala's protests as they'd dragged him out of his office. "Not healthy, and you're stressed."

"That could be because _someone_ is keeping me from my work," Tala had argued.

"The best place to take out that aggression is the gym!" Eddie had said, himself and Michael already dressed for the occasion. "You can borrow some clothes from our buddy Ginta; you two are about the same size. And there's a football match afterwards that we're all gonna watch. You've got to unwind every once in a while, buddy."

And so it came to be that Tala found himself in the gym, and had been surprised to discover that the two were right. It had been a while since he'd done any sort of exercise, but once he'd gotten into it he found himself enjoying exerting himself physically.

"No offence," Michael said in between his punches, "but you're tougher—physically—than I thought you were."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Tala said dryly, drinking from his water bottle.

Michael grabbed hold of the swinging bag.

"Aw, come on. You're not exactly a heavyweight. Can you blame a guy for assuming you to be a bit on the fragile side?" Michael held up his hands when Tala answered that with a glare. "Alright, fine. Didn't mean to insult you, Rambo."

Michael took a seat on the bench. Though it was his turn Tala remained seated. Neither spoke for a long time, preferring to stare around the large room, which was unusually busy for this time of the day. Eddie had joined a few other officers on the pull-up bar, and Steve had walked in some twenty minutes ago and was now doing his daily 250 bench-presses in the corner, being spotted by a burly female office who Tala knew by face but not by name.

"You found anything yet?" Michael asked, towel around his neck and his cap on his bent knee.

"Nothing," Tala sighed.

"But you've been going down to the archives for the past two days. If you can't find it in there, it probably can't be found anywhere. Are you sure you can trust Kon, though? I think he just cracked."

Undoing his hair from the stubby ponytail he'd tied it back in, Tala sighed again as he replayed what had happened in the hallway of his apartment that Monday night ...

_**-------Flashback------**_

_The yellow eyes turned to him and they were almost feral with accusation._

"_Because I want to hear the truth from you."_

_Tala didn't know what to say. Ray was standing right in front of him, watching him with slit pupils, extremely agitated. Still feeling Hiwatari's hands on him, Tala pretended to clear his throat._

"_And what makes you think I'd know anything about this?" he asked, willing his eyes not to shift guiltily. _

"_Because you know who it is. You know who Kai's been seeing."_

_Could it be that Ray had figured it out? Would Tala be insulting the other's intelligence by keeping up this oblivious act?_

"_Ray, look ... It's not what—"_

"_It's Brooklyn, isn't it?"_

"_B-Brooklyn?" he echoed, relieved, but also confused. "You mean Brooklyn Kingston?"_

_Ray nodded, biting the nail of his thumb as he watched Tala closely for any hints as to whether his suspicions were correct._

"_That's … " Tala said, trying to organize his thoughts; trying to wrap them around this unexpected accusation. "That had never crossed my mind," he said honestly._

"_I'm positive," Ray said stubbornly._

_Even though he knew that he was the unwilling fifth wheel in this twisted relationship, he couldn't easily accept the idea of Hiwatari and Brooklyn Kingston together, of all people. It puzzled him as to how Ray could even consider it._

"_I know it sounds weird," Ray said, seeing Tala's reaction, "but that's only because I never told you everything. I ... I never thought I would have to."_

_Before he could say more, however, Ray clenched his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands against them. With a groan, he collapsed against the wall. Tala caught him and lowered him to the floor._

'_Ray, what have I done to you?' he wondered, hugging the sobbing man. 'I'm so sorry, Ray. I'm so sorry ... I never meant for you to be hurt by this ... '_

"_It has to be Brooklyn," Ray hiccoughed, apologetically wiping his smudged tears from Tala's arm. "Kai was obsessed with him."_

"_In what way?"_

"_In the beginning, it was one-sided; Brooklyn was obsessed with Kai. Kai knew about it, but he didn't care much about it." Ray took a deep breath and looked up at Tala. "Everyone knew they were rivals, but we still thought it bizarre that they were so into their rivalry. Brooklyn was known as a peaceful, what-may-be-may-be type of guy; Kai just didn't care for anyone or anything that did not directly relate to him: how could two people like that suddenly strike up such a heated rivalry."_

"_If it was Kingston who started it, when did Hiwatari step up to the challenge?"_

_Ray looked to be in pain as he answered._

"_I noticed the way he started looking at Brooklyn. It was a look of hate, but what scared me more was that he'd look so determined to ... I don't know, it was like he wanted to destroy him, and Brooklyn seemed to return the feeling. They didn't want just victory, but to completely dominate the other." Ray pulled back from the hug, gripping the front of Tala's shirt. "The look ... I'd forgotten it until last night. When Kai was on me, he gave me that look; the same look he used to give Brooklyn back in the day. Something came over him, and he suddenly became so rough he hurt me unintentionally ... He was doing it with me, for the first time in five years, and ended up bruising me just because he was thinking Brooklyn."_

_Kneeling between the neko-jin's legs, Tala almost lost his balance when Ray pulled him back into another hug. Though no longer sobbing out loud, Ray's body was shivering as he rested his sore head on Tala's shoulder._

"_All these years," he said in a soft, defeated voice. "After all these years ... For a few minutes, I thought Kai had finally returned to me, but ... I'm not stupid: I know we'll never have a happy ever after, but I thought that Kai still loved me ... He doesn't. Five years and ... I've lost him, Tala."_

"_He's changed, but that doesn't mean he no longer loves you," Tala said. One part of him couldn't believe he was actually encouraging this relationship, but another part of him—the part governed by guilt—wanted so badly to bring some comfort to the tortured man._

"_If he does, then why would he be thinking about Brooklyn when making love to me for the first time in five years?" Ray whispered, staring over Tala's shoulder with lost eyes. "Kai knows how to get around without being detected. I even ... I can't help wondering whether he escaped just to finish off what he and Brooklyn started. What else could he have been doing this past week?"_

_Stroking the long hair, Tala listened half-heartedly, wracking his mind to come up with a solution. He jumped back at the unexpected feel of a wet lips pressing against his. He could taste alcohol on his tongue: Ray had had a glass or two._

"_I'm sorry," Ray muttered, genuinely ashamed and covering his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't ... I'm not like that to try to ... It just ... hurts so badly. You're the only person I can talk to about this. Lee doesn't like it when I talk about my sexuality, and it's not something I feel comfortable discussing with Mariah ... Please, don't hate me for this, Tala. I should go to the police, tell them what happened, but I ... I don't know what to do ... You're the only one I have left ... "_

"_I don't hate you, Ray," Tala assured, wiping the tears away. Brushing back black hair, Tala pulled Ray into a more upright sitting position. "I'm sorry."_

"_What for?" Ray asked, sniffling._

'_For taking away the one person you loved the most,' Tala thought, but said, "I'm sorry that you have to go through this."_

_Ray stared off to the side, golden eyes haunted, his hands fisted as though clutching something. Overwhelmed with guilt, Tala took the other by the face and touched their brows together._

"_Tala ... ?"_

"_It's okay," Tala said softly even as lips tentatively touched his. "I'm sorry ... "_

_He didn't know who he was apologizing to anymore. Was it to Ray? Or Bryan? Himself? Taking control of the kiss when Ray was still too cautious, Tala kept his eyes closed, fearing that Ray would otherwise read who it was that was really on Tala's mind as their tongues met._

_**------End flashback-----**_

"Looks like I've started comfort sex therapy craze," Michael chuckled. "If you're not careful you're going to find yourself with yet another admirer."

Tala made a dismissive sound. He had left out anything that would implicate either him or Ray; the version he'd given Michael was that Ray had shown up at his apartment with his theory that Hiwatari might be targeting Brooklyn, leaving out Hiwatari's visit to Ray's house. Michael had managed to weasel the more salacious details of what had happened between him and Ray out of him.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," Tala said, picking at his hand wraps. "And we didn't have sex. We just kissed, and Ray knew that I was only trying to calm him."

"You do know that being so testy only makes you cuter?" Michael said, ducking when Tala snapped his towel at him. "So, you've spent the past two days digging through all of Kingston's files for any evidence supporting Kon's theory."

"Yeah," Tala said, flexing his fingers and wrists as he stood, ready for another go at the bag. "I haven't found anything to support it."

"But if Kon was drunk," Michael said, holding the bag as Tala started punching, "why are you taking this so seriously? He could have just been rambling."

"Because," Tala said in between punches, "Because something Ray said got me thinking back to our visit with Brooklyn. Given that Kingston knew details about the Dox case when his father keeps him away from any news of the outside world makes me wonder whether he might be getting information from an outsider ... "

"Hiwatari could easily bypass their security, but why would he? If he is still fixated on their rivalry, how would keeping Kingston up to date with the Dox murders be a victory for him?"

"Maybe Hiwatari is not telling Kingston about the murders. It could be that he's talking with Kingston about the murders—discussing them."

"What, so now we're back to suspecting Kingston is our beloved Dox?" Michael sighed.

"You were there, Michael. You heard what he said about the Dox murders being so much more dramatic than Hiwatari's own crimes. You don't think it's strange? It's just sick."

"Not if that person is a sick person himself. I'm not saying Kingston's in the clear as far as suspects go, but suspecting him just because he praised Dox is weak. Take that to court and his lawyer will quickly play the insanity defence and accuse the father of warping that guy's mind; that he's an innocent victim that the police failed to protect and are now targeting. How would you counter that? By telling them that Hiwatari's ex-boyfriend believes that Brooklyn and Hiwatari are now in cahoots. Whose argument sounds more credible?"

Tala gave the bag one final punch, making Michael take a step back to keep his balance. He wasn't angry at Michael's pessimism, just frustrated because he too doubted the idea.

"Trouble in paradise?" asked a lazy voice that almost made Tala spin around and punch down the speaker. "Can't decide who gets to be bottom?"

"I see the swelling has gone down, McGregor," Michael said, not bothered by the slight as Johnny approached them. "Oh, and your nose is looking better as well."

Shirtless and proudly exposing the red and yellow lion tattoo on his chest, Johnny tightened the strings on his boxing gloves with his teeth and shrugged. Though still a bit red, his nose was back to its normal size and shape.

"Always been a fast healer," he said to Michael. "If you two are going to gossip like a couple of lasses then do it off the mat. Besides, you should be held accountable of endangering a colleague, Parker: Tala might hurt himself slapping—I mean, 'punching' the bag."

Not to be baited, Tala didn't dignify that with a response. The Scotsman had remained ominously silent the past few days. The subject of Hiwatari hadn't resurfaced between them, even within the shared privacy of their office. It was too much to hope for that Johnny had abandoned the matter, but Tala couldn't figure out why the other hadn't said anything to anyone yet.

"Big talk for someone whose nose could outshine Rudolf's," Michael said, taking offence on Tala's behalf. "Tala isn't as delicate as he looks."

Judging Tala's built with a critical eye, Johnny scoffed.

"Talking from personal experience, Parker?" he said, taking up position before the bag and landing a strong left hook. From his footwork it was obvious that Johnny had experience as a boxer. "How tough a guy can he be if he needs other people to talk for him?"

"Leave it, Michael," Tala said, in no mood for another confrontation. He pulled at Michael's elbow. "Let's go see what Eddie's doing."

"Sorry to hear about you and the Captain, Ivanov," Johnny said, loud enough to turn a few heads. "Not an easy thing to juggle, is it? Work and private life?"

Confused mutters flitted through the gym as others paused in their workouts to watch, but Tala ignored the curious eyes in favour of Johnny's, which gleamed at him with a familiar contempt that had been conspicuously absent the last few days.

"Back down, McGregor," Michael said, bumping chests with Johnny, sizing him up. "You don't know what you're talking about, as always."

"Why don't you let the Commie have his say in this, Parker?"

"As always, it was nice talking to you, McGregor," Tala said, already stepping off the mat.

He looked back just in time to see Johnny whisper something to Michael. A look of outrage distorted Michael's features and he spun on his heels, delivering what was more a punch than a shove to the chest to force Johnny back a few steps. Johnny had retaliated with a strong hit to Michael's shoulder.

"Fight!" someone hollered. "Parker vs. McGregor, round 2!"

Tala was jostled to the front of the circle that quickly formed around the two. Hooting and clapping, the others egged the two men on. Unwilling to just stand there and watch the two beat each other to a pulp, Tala took a step forward, but was pulled back by Steve.

"Michael can handle it," he said while Eddie chanted Michael's name behind them.

"The nose, dude! Michael, go for the nose!"

Johnny didn't have any friends in here; everyone was cheering on Michael. With the approving chants of Michael's fans in his ear, Tala ducked a wide swing from Michael and planted himself between the two, who had already managed to bruise each other's chests pretty good.

"Stop!" Tala yelled, facing Michael, who was still trying to reach past him to get to Johnny. "You don't need—"

Tala saw Michael's eyes go wide, but before he could turn around a blinding pain struck him in his right flank, knocking the air right out of him. As his knees buckled, a voice shouted his name, immediately silencing the crowd. Hands grabbed him as he sank to the floor. Through the bright spots dancing before his eyes he could tell that this person did not have red hair.

"What the hell happened here?" Bryan demanded angrily.

A concerned face came into view.

"Tala? Say something," Michael pleaded, sprinkling cold water on Tala's face. "Snap out of it."

"What happened?" Tala asked woozily, trying to sit up but Bryan wouldn't let him.

"Johnny landed a cheap shot."

"He jumped in," Johnny pointed out from somewhere beyond Tala's line of sight, sounding unconcerned. "By the time I saw him it was too late to pull back."

"Bullshit!" Michael said. "I saw you, McGregor. You were aiming for him!"

"You seriously think I'd pull off something like that in front of a crowd of officers? It was an accident."

"If the rest of you have time to cheer on schoolyard fights then you must have time to grow up and start acting like the adult officers you are," Bryan said scathingly to the others; some mumbled their apologies while other walked away sheepishly. "McGregor, Parker, if I catch either of your in this gym at any point in the next month you will be banned for good. Leave."

Eddie and Steve had to convince Michael to leave Tala's side, more aware of Bryan's dangerous temper than Michael was at the moment. Johnny simply walked off in the direction of the locker rooms without a word of apology despite his claims that it had been an accident.

"We should get you to the hospital," Bryan said, letting Tala sit up.

"It's just a punch," Tala said, and ate his words when the motion sent a jolt of pain up and down his spine. "A _solid_ punch. How does it look?"

Bryan lifted his shirt and Tala heard him hiss.

"You're in for a world of pain for the next couple of days."

Aware of the eyes on them as Bryan helped him to his feet, Tala quickly found his balanced and pushed himself away from the other's too gentle hold.

"I can walk on my own," he said, not wanting to lend any more credibility to rumours that were inevitably going around.

Bryan followed Tala as he limped towards the locker room. Despite putting on a brave face, Tala couldn't keep it up for long and once they were within the semi-privacy of the narrow corridor he grabbed onto Bryan's arm and bent over in pain, steadying his other hand on his knee.

"We need to take you to the hospital," Bryan insisted, bearing most of Tala's weight by keeping an arm around his waist.

"I'll put that off until I start pissing blood," Tala said, shaking his head.

But Bryan was already on the phone.

"Fujita, where are you? ... I need you down here in the gym's locker room immediately ... Yes, there's been an incident ... Good."

"Who was that?" Tala asked, finding the strength once more to take a few steps at a time.

"Miriam Fujita. She has experience as a field medic. If she says so, you're going to the hospital, and I will drag you there by force if you continue to be so stubborn about seeing a doctor ... Now what?"

Raised voices were coming from inside the locker room. Michael and Johnny, by some unfortunate chance, had encountered each other once again. Eddie was there, trying to remain impartial as he kept a hand against Michael's chest while warning Johnny to stay back. Steven was watching the whole thing from a neutral standpoint, ready to step in should it become too much for Eddie to handle.

"Hopeless," Bryan spat, leaving Tala in the doorway to step in once more.

"Hey, need help?" Steve asked. Seeing Tala wincing as he gripped his back, the stocky man offered a shoulder and led Tala over to the closest bench. "How's your back?"

"Bryan has someone coming down to look at it," Tala said, releasing a long sigh of relief as he sat down. "Someone should check Johnny for steroids, though."

"McGregor's always been strong. You need your stuff? Which locker is it?"

Tala handed him the key with the number on it.

Bryan had butted his way into the heated discussion, determined to get to the root of the cause. Although Michael was accusing Johnny of having struck out with deliberate intent to wound, Bryan wasn't letting the American off that easily, holding him responsible for flying off the handle in the first place. Johnny stuck to his version of the story, though with the Captain on his case it was a lot harder for him to keep up his earlier nonchalance. Eddie didn't have to say anything: he had his hands full keeping a hold on Michael, who was getting more and more irritated the longer Johnny maintained his innocence.

Someone lifted up his shirt and pressed something wet against the burning skin.

"I'll get your stuff, but keep this on for now," Steve said, pressing the towel he'd soaked in cold water from the sink against the contusion. "Damn, you're going to be feeling that one later. Really sorry, Tala. Should have held you back."

"You tried," Tala said, holding the towel in place. "I should have known better than to turn my back on McGregor, though I'd sooner expect him to stab me in the back, not punch me."

"Tala," Michael crouched down before him as Steve left to get his things. Somehow, he had managed to slip away from the other two, who too preoccupied with getting in each other's face to notice. "You okay?"

"Apparently, that's not for me to decide," Tala sighed, arching his spine, testing how far it could be manipulated. "Bryan's ready to whisk me off to the ER at a pin drop and now even Steve's playing bedside nurse to me."

"I saw his face, Tala. I saw the way his eyes narrowed when he realized it was you. I don't care how much he swears on his grandmother's grave: he hit you intentionally."

"Why did _you _hit him in the first place?"

"It doesn't matter," Michael said, skirting around the subject. "He'd been itching for another fight anyway.—"

"Michael, you owe me a straight answer," Tala said, lifting the towel to show the ugly blackish-blue blotch. "What I want to know is why you overreacted like that. Whatever Johnny said, it couldn't have been worth all this—"

"He asked me whether we'd done it in the backseat of my car as well," Michael said softly but fiercely, almost snapping the visor of his baseball cap in half as he clenched it in his fist.

"He what?"

"I don't know either, okay, but he must have seen us in the garage when we ... You were telling me to walk away, and I was gonna, but then Johnny asked me whether you'd been as demanding while I was doing you in the backseat."

Tala looked to Bryan, worried. Reading his thoughts, Michael took him by the shoulders when he tried to stand up.

"He hasn't said anything about that to the Captain. He probably knows that doing so will also land him in trouble for making the remark in the first place."

Sensing Tala's eyes on him, Bryan walked over, wordlessly forcing Michael to back off. Johnny and Eddie followed, the Scotsman not looking as full of himself as he'd been before. He glared at Bryan, who overruled it with an impatience clearing of the throat.

"Didn't mean to hit you, Ivanov," Johnny said over Michael's protest that the apology was insincere. "A part of me must have realized you were there, but I guess I got too carried away to care."

"Bullshit," Michael coughed with little discretion.

"At least _I_ apologized," Johnny argued, daring to smirk in Bryan's presence, which riled Michael up all over again.

"Here, kid."

Steve had returned with Tala's bag and change of clothes, but when Michael took a threatening step towards Johnny Steve had to dump the items to lend his bulk since even Bryan's warnings were beginning to fall on deaf ears. Tala grabbed his clothes, but was unable to catch his open gym bag as it slipped off the bench and landed on its side, spilling most of its content. With a groan, Tala carefully knelt down on the floor and began gathering his belongings.

His attention on the ongoing debate but aware of Tala's actions, Bryan knelt down to pick up one of the items that had slid towards him. Tala was about to thank him, until he saw what it was that Bryan was holding.

Hiwatari's red cell phone.

The Captain hadn't even glanced at what he'd picked up, too busy threatening to suspend both Michael and Johnny if they didn't make grudging peace soon. But as he passed the phone back to Tala Bryan's eyes began to stray downwards to his hand—

"Ugh! I feel like I'm teaching kindergarten all over again!" said a loud female voice from the door. A sultry dark-haired woman stood frowning at them with crossed arms. She was dressed in a miniskirt, leather jacket and high heels meant for someplace other than here. "And at least those kids knew to shut up when told to."

"Miriam," Bryan said, handing Tala the phone without giving it a second thought. "If your method of teaching was so effective you wouldn't have been forced into making a career change."

"Kids these days are too cuddled and pampered," she shrugged. With no introduction, she made Tala stand up for her to examine the injury. Everyone quietly waited for her assessment as she frowned at the size of the bruise, carefully prodding around it. "Lucky for you, this wasn't a direct hit to your kidney. Are you having trouble breathing?"

"Not anymore," Tala said.

"Nausea? Abdominal pain? Drowsiness?"

"None."

"Looks to me like it's just bruising," Miriam said, "so just go home and rest up for a while. But if the pain doesn't lessen by tonight, or if any of the other symptoms occur, get yourself to the hospital at once."

"Yes, ma'am," Tala said, glad that she hadn't ordered him to a hospital straight away.

"You need me to deal with these two as well, Captain?" Miriam asked Bryan, nodding at Michael and Johnny. Her question was most likely a rib, but her no-nonsense expression made it hard to tell for sure. "I don't think their parents would mind if I gave them a few dozen sharp raps on the knuckles."

"I'm sure you'd rather get on with your anniversary lunch," Bryan said. "Ozuma must be wondering where you are."

"The idiot's probably late himself," Miriam said, flipping her long hair back. "Anyway, you boys sort yourself out before you end up embarrassing us all."

The heels of her boots clicked loudly as she strode out.

"Take a week's leave, the both of you," he said, and was immediately met with opposition.

"But Dox—" Michael said.

"Balcov, we've already had enough obstacles thrown our way; suspending us will only cripple the investigation even more."

"You two won't be getting much work done anyway if you're only going to be at each other's throats the whole time. I'm not suspended either of you, McGregor, despite my better judgment, but I don't want to see your faces for a few days. Take your work home, and get yourselves sorted. I am in charge of this station, which includes keeping things under control. I won't have you two distracting others from their tasks. Now change, get your things from your offices, and leave."

Michael looked devastated, but he nodded, putting back on his cap.

"Sorry, boss," he mumbled. "Sorry, Tala."

Without even looking at Johnny, Michael grabbed his gym bag and marched out with Eddie and Steve in tow.

"You're driving me into a corner here, Balcov," Johnny said. "If you keep cutting me off like this I'll soon run out of conventional means to do my job."

"That hasn't stopped you in the past," Bryan said. "If it weren't for your expertise I would have sent you back to Scotland with a formal letter of complaints disclosing your conduct to your superiors, so drop the tough guy act."

With a sighed "Whatever", the Scotsman disappeared around the end of the row of lockers.

Finally alone again, Bryan surprised Tala by pulling him into a gentle embrace.

"Scared the wits out of me, walking in to see you collapsing like that," Bryan whispered into Tala's hair.

Resting his head against Bryan's chest, Tala closed his eyes, allowing the hand running up and down between his shoulders to calm them both.

"Please come home, Tala. I've been worried since the attack of Wolborg, and now with your own injury ... I won't be able to sleep if I can't personally keep an eye on you. If you want I'll sleep downstairs and you can have the bed, but don't push me away anymore. I'm worried about your safety."

"My safety ... " Tala repeated, gripping the thin material of Bryan's T-shirt.

What Bryan said made sense, and Tala would want nothing better than to return to a warmer, more welcoming place, instead of his empty apartment where he didn't even have Wolborg or Yuka to keep him company. But it would put Bryan at risk. Hiwatari was biding his time, not being as forceful as Tala knew the man could be, but something as drastic as moving back in with Bryan, whatever the reasons, would be flirting with danger.

"I don't want you to worry about me, though, Bryan. I've managed without you for years. If I start relying on you all the time again ... "

"I don't think of you as helpless, but I am responsible for everything that happened. Anything that will help you, make you happy, I'll do it."

" _... I will make you happy ... "_

"Just give me a few more days," Tala said, abruptly pulling away from the tempting mouth. "I have to shower," he said, pushing Bryan back. "I wanted to visit Wolborg after work. Since I'm going home now, I should pass by the clinic to check up on him."

"He was doing better yesterday," Bryan said, handing Tala his clothes so he didn't have to bend down. "You want me to come with you?"

"I'll call you if I need something, or if something happens."

"Yeah, alright." Bryan finally gave in, heading for the door, only to stop. "By the way, what was that thing I picked up earlier? Looked like a phone. I didn't know you got a new one." He took out his own phone. "What's the number?"

"It's Ray's," Tala said without thinking, pretending to be arranging the clothes slung over his arm. "He forgot it the night he came by. I carry it around with me, in case he shows up again unexpectedly."

Bryan bought the made-up story without question.

"Later, Tala."

Tala smiled, though it slowly vanished as he made his way to the showers.

'So many lies ... ' he thought sullenly. 'Lie after lie, about everything ... Lying to Bryan, and Michael, and Eddie and Steve and Emily ... Lying to Ray, even encouraging him when I'm the reason behind all his misery ... Even lying to myself ... And for who? Hiwatari?'

Even when under the shower, letting the warm water run over his sore back, Tala stared emptily at the tiles. It took him a while to stop thinking about Bryan; about how much he wished his lover was with him now, gently scrubbing his shoulders and back for him, but now his mind just felt blank, and he didn't know whether it was because he was genuinely out of ideas, or whether he was too exhausted to bother coming up with any. His back begged him to take a day off, but recalling the front page headline of Oliver Polanski's autopsy that morning, he banished the thought.

'Dox won't be going on holiday anytime soon,' he told himself. 'If must stop before he strikes again—!'

White light exploded before his eyes as a fist cruelly grounded itself into his bruised skin. The pain was so intense Tala couldn't cry out, instead making a strangled sound as he struggled to remain standing despite the paralyzing agony. For a moment, pain was all he was aware of until a voice whispered into his ear.

"Letting your guard down again, Ivanov?"

"Mc ... Gregor ... " Tala gasped, squirming to get away from the offending hand. "Get off!"

But the fist only pressed down harder and the pain travelled further up Tala's spine.

"Not so tough when you don't have Balcov or the Yank to cover for you. No, don't bother shouting for help. We're not going to be joined by anyone anytime soon: the rest are all back up in the gym, watching the football match on television. We're going to have this entire room to ourselves for at least another forty-five minutes."

Tala couldn't even attempt a headbutt, or a reversed elbow to the side of the other's head: any more strain on his injury felt like it would most likely kill him. The pain was so incapacitating that when Johnny finally removed his fist Tala could only lean against the wall, gasping, frighteningly aware that he wouldn't be able to ward off any attack should Johnny decide to finish off what he'd started out in the gym.

A hand reached around to dangle something red before him.

"You'd think you'd be more careful hiding this, especially after Balcov held it in his own hands," Johnny said, swinging Hiwatari's red phone away from the spray of water. "I saw what it was, but didn't think much of it until I noticed how nervous you looked about Balcov handling it. Then I saw the sticker. Interesting choice, a phoenix."

Staring at the phone with wide eyes, Tala's once blank mind was suddenly assaulted with the images of bodies, all of them Hiwatari's victims.

"It's ... Ray's ... " he tried, one last, desperate time.

"Yeah, I heard you tell Balcov as much. It would explain the phoenix sticker: Kon refuses to give up on Hiwatari," Johnny said, and Tala knew he was only stringing him along. "Funny thing is, though, that there's only a couple of messages on here, and one of them reads: 'Had to hang up. Someone was trying to trace our call. Destroy and get rid of the first phone and keep this one. Same number. Polanski had been signing autographs just a couple of blocks away from where we both lunched. Next time, act faster. Your car is parked on the other side of the wall on your left.' And it was sent on the morning of Polanski's death. Isn't that strange, Ivanov? Why would anyone send a message like this to Kon?"

Tala didn't get a chance to answer. Almost slipping as he was forced to turn around and pinned back against the wall, he knew that things were even worse than he had first feared.

Johnny's eyes were cold and hateful. He was wearing only a towel around his waist, yet looked more intimidating an armed soldier. Still clutching the phone, Johnny grabbed a handful of Tala's hair, forcing them to meet eye to eye.

"Hiwatari gave you this," Johnny said.

Tala said nothing, and was punished with a punch to the abdomen that resonated straight through to his bruised kidney. That one injury was his debilitating weakness, and Johnny knew it; he wasn't going to give Tala any chance to recover, let alone defend himself.

"Hiwatari gave you this, didn't he?" Johnny repeated, shoving the phone in Tala's face.

" ... Yes."

He hadn't expected any good out of this, but even so Tala was horrified when Johnny flung the phone against the wall, smashing it to pieces.

"What are you—!"

"What am I doing? What am _I _doing?!" Johnny sneered, grabbing Tala by the throat. "You have been communicating with a murdering psychopath for over a week, and you have the nerve to question _me_? You blatantly lied to me, the same way you've been lying to everyone else, about your involvement, and you are questioning _me_?! When you were supposed to be tracking down Dox, you were sending secret messages to Kai Hiwatari, meeting him in appointed places, and you have the fucking guts to ask me _what I'm doing_?!"

Another punch to the stomach, hard enough to bring up the coppery taste of blood at the back of Tala's throat. Spitting out bloody saliva, Tala could barely draw in fresh breath before Johnny's fingers clamped down on his throat with even more force.

"How _dare_ you try to pull off something like this? Who the fuck do you think you're fucking around with here? Did you really thing you were smart enough not to get caught?"

Tala was beginning to lose strength in his legs due from lack of oxygen. Johnny let him sink to his knees, but then released him, leaving him to hack and gag over the shower drain. Peering through spraying water and wet hair, Tala stared at the scattered pieces of the phone.

"You ... idiot," Tala coughed. "You don't ... know ... what you've done!"

He saw Johnny crouch down next to him out of the corner of his eye, and tensed when a finger was lightly placed on the bruise.

"I don't know what sort of twisted deal you have going on with Hiwatari—doubtlessly it must have something to do with him being able to fuck you wherever, whenever and however he pleases—but this ends here," Johnny said.

"It's not that ... simple. If I don't ... People will die if I don't ... The phone was ... "

"Aw, you poor thing," Johnny cooed with mock sympathy, stroking Tala's back with the condescending voice of a smug master talking to his dog. "Did the big bad man make you take the phone? Did he threaten to do evil things to innocent people if you didn't let him have his way with you?"

"He still will," Tala said, trying to pull away from the hand. "Johnny, please ... Think this through! I was only going along with Hiwatari's plans for the time being. I want him back in police custody, but I couldn't just—Ah!"

The finger jabbed itself into the tender flesh, forcing him to gnash his teeth together to stop himself from screaming.

"I know, I know," Johnny sighed, getting to his knees. "You didn't mean any wrong. You're too much of a ruddy goody two-shoes, which is exactly why Hiwatari must be having so much fun wrapping you around his little finger. On the other hand, you'll be neck-high in shit if this ever leaks out."

" ... If?" Tala asked, blinking away tears. "What's stopping you?"

"You've been a thorn in my side since day one," Johnny said. "It's not like Hiwatari to pull of something as bold as that escape and not throw it back in our faces. I was counting on his taunts as a starting point, but so far we've heard nothing from him. And now I know why: he's been too busy enjoying his quality time with you. And now you've gone and gotten me banned from headquarters for a week, further preventing me from doing my job. So, rather than blow the whistle and watch you burn, I should just collect that debt you owe me."

"You ... You want me to lead you to Hiwatari."

His vision jarred when Johnny struck his in the back of the head, as if trying to knock some sense into him.

"Don't be moronic. I could have just traced the numbers in the cell phone, or even follow you around until you finally met up with him again, but Hiwatari isn't that easily tricked." The hand in his hair slid to the back of his neck as Johnny moved to kneel before Tala. "I know it's useless to chase after him. So, if you can't outrun your target, bait him. Use something to lure him out into the open."

"What, a hostage? Hiwatari isn't a knight in shining armour, McGregor," he said, needing to steady himself when Johnny released him. "He wouldn't care if you stashed me away somewhere. And my absence will not go unnoticed here."

Johnny laughed.

"I'm not taking you anywhere," he said with his usual punkish superiority, but what made Tala jump was that the man was suddenly behind him. "Hiwatari's a smart man. Even if I were to hide you, he'd eventually find you. No, hiding wouldn't raise his hackles. In fact, I can't wait until the two of you meet up again. You'll deliver him this message from me ... "

Pushed back down, he felt slick skin against his as Johnny straddled him from the behind. Hands grabbed him by the hips; one of them squeezed his badly bruised side, causing more than enough pain to keep him down despite his body's automatic response to defend himself.

"You can't ... Johnny, you can't be serious ... " Tala said, trying to pull free as his hips were raised, forcing him to his knees. "This is ... This is ... "

He could hear Johnny's heavy breathing, and noticed the moment of hesitation of the hands holding him. They loosened, only to tighten again when he tried to squirm away.

"I never had to resort to this before," Johnny confessed, speaking in a low voice that gave Tala the brief hope that the man was already reconsidering his plans. But the feel of wet fingers experimentally caressing the curve of his buttocks dashed his hopes. "As long as you're around, Hiwatari will not let himself be distracted by anything else, not even the law. The only way to get his attention is through you."

"Stop this," Tala urged, forgetting about the hands when his entire side suddenly burned with pain as he doubled his efforts. He could do nothing! For the first time in his life since the death of his father, he could do nothing at all to defend himself. All he could do was plea in a breathless voice, "Stop this now!"

"I'm not doing this for my own pleasure. I came here determined to solve this case," Johnny said. Something hard pressed against Tala's cleft. "I beat Hiwatari once, and I will do whatever it takes to win again. I won't lose this case, Ivanov, do you hear me? You almost fucked it up for me, so now you're going to help me win at all costs!"

'Why? ... I only wanted to do the right thing ... I did what I had to do to keep others safe ... I only wanted to protect as many people as I could ... Why am I being punished for that? ... Why am I always the one who gets punished?'

"Relax," Johnny said, forcing Tala's back into a painful arch by roughly thumbing the contusion. "You must have done this hundreds of times before."

Tala shuddered as he was roughly penetrated. He sank down to his elbows, completely unprepared and still unable believe that this was actually happening. He heard Johnny grunt, clumsily thrusting a few times before finding a rhythm. The pain didn't last very long, but there was absolutely no pleasure either. The sensitive bruise stretched painfully with every thrust, forcing gasps and whimpers out of him.

Worst of all, though, was the burning shame. Mortified beyond belief, Tala didn't even dare speak throughout the assault. As the pace picked up, he lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for it to all be over soon. All he heard was the shushing sound of the running shower, the sound of their flesh slapping together, and Johnny's laboured breathing. He focussed on the pain of his back in an attempt to not feel what else was happening, but as Johnny neared his peek the thrusts became even harder, making it impossible to shut out.

'Bryan ... Help me ... Why aren't you here? You promised you'd ... '

A few feet away, the red sparkled on the broken phone cover caught his eye. Stretching out an arm, knowing he'd never reach it, Tala stared at the phoenix sticker.

'You promised ... me happiness ... '

A sharp sting made him hiss; he'd been torn. A thin tendril of blood appeared in the water flowing past between his legs, spiralling down into the drain.

' ... You promised ... Hiwatari ... '

"Fuuuuuck," Johnny groaned.

A hand pulled Tala's head back and teeth sank into the side of his neck; exactly over Hiwatari's love bite. Tala moaned as his body rocked beneath Johnny's a few more times. He watched the thinning tendrils of blood float by and then, finally, it was all over.

Once released, Tala staggered on all fours before weakly pushing himself up, but sitting was still too uncomfortable. Resting his weight on his hip, he kept his eyes down, averted. A sticky hand grabbed at his chin but he still refused to look the other in the eyes. He didn't think he'd ever be able to after this.

"Can't believe you actually bled," Johnny said, still out of breath. "Didn't expect it would actually feel that good ... You keep this a secret, Ivanov, cause I'm not a fag. This is a business deal, got it? If either of us gets caught, the other will be dragged down. If we get caught before we get Hiwatari, all those people you were trying to protect will bleed a hell of a lot more than you just did. You do your job right, and we're all set. If you don't, I'm afraid we're going to have to hold another little meeting just like this one, again and again, until we get results."

"Idiot ... " Tala whispered, finding that his thighs were still trembling too hard for him to even get to his knees. "You idiot ... If Hiwatari ever finds out ... "

Smirking lips pressed against his, just to seal the shameful deed.

"That's the whole point," Johnny said, cruelly nipping Tala's lower lip. "He's going to want me dead once he finds out I've fucked his favourite toy before he could. It will eat away at him, and it won't take long before it reaches a snapping point. Focussed, Hiwatari is untouchable; angry, he will make mistakes, and I'll be there to catch and cuff him when he trips up. I've made my move: now it's his turn. Never thought I'd say this, but I guess working with you just might turn out to be a very satisfying experience after all."

"Fuck you!"

Johnny chuckled as he stood, rewrapping the towel around his waist.

"I already did. Make sure to clean up in here before you leave. See you around, _partner_."

Bleeding, bruised and sore all over, Tala didn't raise his head until long after the wet footsteps faded away. Humiliated and disoriented, he watched the tiny impacts of water on the floor around him, blinking repeatedly. He could see were the hazy lights through the water, but nothing else felt real.

Johnny knew ... Johnny would tell everything to everyone if he didn't cooperate ... If that happened they'd never be able to prevent Hiwatari's vengeful slaughter ... It had to be kept a secret, just as before ... Only now, Johnny was involved ... Johnny was ... Johnny had ...

Leaning over, he began to violently throw up.

Johnny had ... He had been ... Just now, he'd been ...

Wiping his mouth with a badly shaking hand, Tala couldn't deny himself the truth any longer.

He'd been raped.

Inside him, what little innocence had managed to survive the recent attacks on his mental well-being; the one little piece he'd struggled to keep intact all these years, cracked, and he was sick all over again.

Tbc ...

* * *

Read & Review, please.


	21. January 29 I

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

**A/N: **HOWDIE! So, how has your year been?

Guess what? Another rewrite! Now, before you run off screaming, don't worry: you won't have to reread all the previous chapters. Whenever I return to a fic after a long period of time I'm inclined to read through the whole thing on order to both refresh my memories (hey, even I forget the details every now and then) and to get rid of some of the pesky typos, as well as streamline the story here and there if needed. The plot, however, has not changed. Hell, it isn't even really a rewrite, just a couple of minor changes I made in an attempt to be a wee bit more accurate. This time round I restructured the characters rankings/positions in the police force.

I've changed Bryan's position from Lieutenant to Captain (he gets to keep the capital letter). I always knew that captains were the higher rank, and I can't honestly recall why I said he was a lieutenant when he's the one running the show, so I fixed that.

Originally, Michael, Eddie, Steve and Emily were part of the forensic team, but I realized that, for all intents and purposes, they're detectives; they spend more time investigating than they spend in a lab somewhere. Then I thought, 'Damn, why didn't I just make them detectives in the first place?' So that's what I did.

Lastly, Tala's no longer a rookie at some academy: he's now a Criminology student at a university. I don't have a reason for changing this, since it had no relevance to or impact on the plot. I just thought it'd be better suited for him to still be in uni.

Just thought I'd warn you about this. Saves you from many "WTF? Did they all just get promoted?" moments.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 10.01**_

The phone was ringing in the bedroom, but Tala remained where he was, staring up at his ceiling. A few more rings before the answering machine took over.

"_Red, you there ... ? You gotta be. Come on, pick up."_

It was Michael. There was a lot of noise in the background; lively music and shouting children and a voice that could be Eddie's, laughing at some joke being told by a third party that made Michael chuckle before turning his attention back to the call.

" _... Ah, I guess you're probably sleeping. So, just calling to ask how you're doing. Again. It's been a couple of days since any of us heard from you, pal. Is your back still giving you trouble? I know you've been given the days off to rest up, but ... yeeeeah, was just worried, I guess. Monday's coming up so everyone's tense back at the department, and the media's playing guess-the-next-sin-victim, which isn't helping. McGregor's been in a freakishly good mood, so either he's made a breakthrough and is keeping it a secret, or he finally lost his virginity. Me and some of the guys are at the winter fair downtown. Needed to get out for lunch and unwind a bit, though Steve got sick on the Tilt-A-Whirl. We're definitely coming back here once you're feeling better. We'll even invite McGregor, and ditch him, blindfolded, gagged and handcuffed, in the maze. It'd be awesome! Anyway, give me a ring a.s.a.p. to let me know you're alive, Tala. If you need anything, just ask. Ciao. Hey, Eddie, did he ever tell you the one about the priest and the duck—"_

*beeeeeeeep*

Tala rubbed his wrinkled fingertips together. The water had long lost its warmth. With a voiceless sigh, he pulled himself upright and stepped out of the tub. Without drying himself off, he pulled on his housecoat and exited the bright bathroom, still dripping wet. Just as he reached his bed, however, he spotted movement through the narrow partition of the curtains. Holding his breath, he went to investigate, only to discover a harmless crow hopping back and forth on the window ledge outside, searching for shelter against the falling snow.

False alarm.

Tala closed the curtains entirely. Abandoning his plans to crawl back into bed, he returned to the living room, not caring for the wet footprints he was leaving behind on the floor and carpet.

The living room was even darker than the bedroom. Leaning against the hallway's door frame, arms folded insecurely, balancing as he stood with one bare foot on the other in an attempt to keep at least one of them warm on the cold floor, he blinked through his wet, uncombed bangs at the dreary, lifeless room. Flashbacks of Gary Gao's apartment flickered in his mind. He remembered wondering at the time how someone could live in darkness; how someone could breathe in such a suffocating atmosphere; how someone could choose such isolation over the bright outdoors.

Maybe Gao had had it figured out after all. Maybe, if Gao had remained within the safe confines of his home, he would have never caught the attention of a predator.

The phone rang once more. Tala stepped back into the hallway, holding his breath. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. The answering machine took over again.

"_Why aren't you answering, Tala? I know you're home."_

Tala breathed out. It was Bryan, sounding tired.

" _... Michael just called, asking whether I've heard from you lately. He's worried, and now I am too. You haven't called me since Thursday, not even to check in on the investigation. I'm up to my neck in work here, and I know you'd hate to be the one responsible for keeping me from doing my job, so contact me a.s.a.p. or I'm coming down there to see you in person. And I have the spare key to your place, so I can and will let myself in if you don't answer the door. If it really is your back then seek help. I can give you more days off to recover, so don't think you'll be inconveniencing anyone by asking ... I love you."_

*beeeeeeeep*

Drawn in by the silence, Tala sank down onto the couch, peering over the back of it at the phone.

Who did _he_ fear the most? Who was _he_ hiding from? Michael and the others, because it would be too humiliating if they were to discover what had happened to him? Bryan, because he knew his lover would never forgive himself for what had happened? McGregor, because ...

Tala barely made it to the kitchen sink, though there was nothing left in his stomach to expel. He had already thrown up whatever he'd eaten up until that Thursday, and he hadn't eaten anything since. After several dry and painful heaves, he filled a glass of water and emptied it in three big gulps, trying to wash away the taste of bile.

"If only I were as heartless as you, McGregor," he said venomously, dropping the glass into the sink. He checked the locks on the windows, then went back to the living room to check the locks on the balcony doors. "I would do it, I really would ... "

But he wasn't, and he couldn't. He could not bear the responsibility for McGregor's fate if ever Hiwatari were to find out what had happened. Tala himself would happily take a crowbar to the highlander's skull if given the chance, but allowing McGregor to suffer his punishment at the hands of Hiwatari ... Tala could only dream of being that cruel a person. Delivering McGregor to Hiwatari would be an unforgivable act. Whether Johnny deserved it or not was not the question: whether Tala wanted the Scotsman's blood on his hands and conscience was a straightforward no. He had yet to get over the guilt of being indirectly responsible for Dunga's death.

So it was not just shame that had forced him into this isolation. Every minute that past was another minute having evaded Hiwatari. But for how long? It had been two days since McGregor had smashed the phone. In that time, had Hiwatari attempted to call him? If not, it was just a matter of time until Hiwatari would come to investigate. Until then, Tala could only pray for more time as he attempted to wash away any incriminating evidence of what had happened in that locker room. Hiwatari's sense of smell was more bloodhound-like than human. Tala didn't know how many baths it would take to completely erase Johnny's scent, but no matter how many times he scrubbed himself clean, he could not remove the itching memory of those unwanted touches.

The coffee table was buried beneath disorganized notes and files. The black screen of his borrowed laptop rose through the papers like a tombstone. The mess gave the impression of someone who had been hard at work, but in reality he had done nothing.

Gingerly leaning back against a cushion, Tala drew up a leg and rested his head on his knee, staring morosely at the littered table before him.

He had reprimanded himself; called himself pathetic and a coward and a quitter. He still had enough self-awareness left to know that he had it in him to be stronger than this, but to gather the will to rely on that strength seemed too exhausting right now. For now, all he wanted was silence; nothingness. If only he could clear his mind of all thoughts and enjoy oblivion for a few hours. Sleeping hadn't helped at all. Nightmares of all sorts tortured his dreams, forcing him to escape his own thoughts by waking up. He had tried distracting himself by working on the Dox case, but thinking of Dox made him think of Hiwatari, and thinking of Hiwatari reminded him why he was avoiding the convict even more than usual. Thinking of McGregor was enough to sap what little strength he had left.

' _... Didn't expect it would actually feel that good ... cause I'm not a fag ... '_

Physically, he had recovered from the rape. Psychologically, it felt as though it had happened just minutes ago, and that it could and would happen any moment now. He did not only know his assailant, but he would have to face him again at work. Dealing with McGregor had never been a pleasant experience; facing him after what he'd done ... The scales had tipped dramatically. Nothing he could ever say or do would ever outdo what McGregor had done to him. Any argument, any discourse between them, and Johnny would need only to mention how he'd taken him in the showers, and Tala would not be able to retort.

' _... working with you just might turn out to be a satisfying experience after all ... '_

The assault had stripped him of both his dignity and credibility. McGregor most likely considered their rivalry finished, himself the definite victor. He_ had_ won. McGregor had won.

The phone rang directly behind him. Tala rose, ready to return to bed. Just as he reached the bedroom door, someone spoke into the answering machine.

" _... Hello? Tala? ... S-s-so cold ... Is someone there?"_

Tala hesitated, caught off guard. He knew that soft voice from somewhere ... The speaker sounded out of breath as he whispered anxiously into the phone.

"_Please, please answer. Please, before he finds me! Help me!"_

Leaping over the couch, forgetting his own woes, Tala grabbed the phone.

"Brooklyn?"

"_What's going on?! What does he want from me?!"_

Definitely Brooklyn. There was a lot of noise in the background.

"Brooklyn! Can you hear me?"

Brooklyn sobbed, relieved.

"_T-Tala ... ? Tala! Is it really you? Oh god ... "_ Whatever he said next was too soft to hear.

"Brooklyn, I need you to speak up," Tala said anxiously.

"_I can't. He'll hear me. He'll find me. He's after me, Tala."_

"Who is? Why?"

"_He's following me ... Father ... he is ... I'm too tired to run ... too tired ... "_

"Has your father hurt you? ... Brooklyn!"

The background noise faded as Brooklyn found a quiet place to hide. Tala could hear from his voice that he was shivering.

" _... Don't talk to me ... please, go away ... Go away, please!"_

"Brooklyn, I'm here. You don't want to talk to me?"

"_No, _you_ stay, please! Please, Tala, please, please ... please ... help me ... please, come ... "_

"Brooklyn, you live hours away from me," Tala said even as he got to his feet and rushed to his bedroom, shedding his housecoat as he ran. Clenching the phone between his ear and shoulder, he pulled on the first pair of pants he laid hands on. "I'll never make it in time. You have to call your local police. They'll be at your home much faster than I—"

"_No, not at home ... I'm in Tokyo ... in the city—Stop talking to me!" _he said shrilly to someone, but didn't give Tala the chance to ask who. _"Tala,_ _I came with father and Kiba, but ... so much blood ... he's in the shadows ... I didn't know who else to call ... You're the only person I know here ... Save me! He won't hurt you ... you haven't angered him ... You've done nothing wrong; nothing at all ... Save me from my sins too! ... I can't hide for much longer ... He's ... "_

"Brooklyn?" Tala asked when the other suddenly stopped talking. "Brooklyn!"

"_He's coming! I know he is!"_ Brooklyn said, voice so soft now Tala had to be guessing what he was hearing. _"Oh please, oh please, help me! He's going to kill me! What did I ever do to deserve this, Tala? Why is this happening to me?!"_

"Where are you, Brooklyn? Tell me where you are right now."

"_I ... I don't know ... a park with lights ... so many lights ... and shadows ... There are lots of people ... and moving things with people on them ... a ... a fair, I think ... it looks like one I saw in a storybook ... I don't know if this is a fair ... too many lights ... it does look like one ... "_

Tala released a long breath.

"Brooklyn, it's going to be alright," he said, searching the chaotic coffee table for his mobile. "You remember Detective Parker, the other officer who was with me the day we met at your house?"

"_Y-Yes ... I think so ... Tala, please ... "_

"Listen to me. Detective Parker is at that very same fair right now. I'm going to call him and he'll come get you. He'll stay with you until I arrive, alright? You'll be safe with him."

"_But—"_

"Stay calm. I need to contact him before he leaves. Tell me, where are you exactly? What do you see around you? What type of rides?"

Brooklyn fell silent, but when he spoke again he sounded calmer.

"_Safe ... Yes, I'll be safe ... er ... I don't know what it's called. I've never been to a fair before. It's ... It turns, and it has horses on it that go up and down ... horses and other animals ... I see ... I see ... "_

"That's the carousel," Tala said. "Brooklyn, you're going to stay there, understood? Your father won't dare to try something with so many witnesses present. Everything will be alright, I promise."

No answer.

"Brooklyn? Brooklyn!"

A loud gasp, followed by a horrified moan. Then ...

"_He's here!"_

"Brooklyn?" Tala asked, gripping the phone. "Brooklyn, say something!"

Nothing from the other end. The call had been terminated.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 11.16**_

"He's not here."

Forgetting how painful it was just climbing out of his car, Tala stared at Michael for a moment before slamming the door shut and pushing his way past Michael and Eddie, eyes on nothing else but the great carrousel beyond the colourful fencing.

"Tala!" Michael caught up with him, flashing his badge to the ticket controller demanding to see their proofs of admission. "We've searched the entire area. We're still asking around but so far no one remembered seeing anything out of the ordinary."

"It's here. He is here," Tala said, weaving in and other of the crowd. "There's only one fair in the city that's open today and he described seeing that very carrousel. He must have gone into hiding. He is here, Michael. We have to find him. I promised him it'd be alright."

"Tala—Tala! Slow down!" Michael said, grabbing him by a shoulder. "You're limping and ... Why do you smell like a perfume counter?"

"Not relevant."

"Either way, I don't think you should be out here in your state."

"And Brooklyn shouldn't be out here in his!" he said, using his pain to fuel his irritation. "You didn't hear him, Michael. He was terrified. He was crying and begging me to help him! Someone was after him and I promised him they wouldn't get him. We have to find him!"

Tala watched the carrousel as it went round and round, its white-and-gold animals rhythmically rising and falling to the generic melody of carnival jingle. Its riders laughed, their cheeks red from the cold and excitement. Proud parents stood at the fence, waving every time one of their kids came into view; worried parents never let their kids get out of sight, walking in circles around the ride as they followed their fearless offspring, as though they'd be able to catch them should they fall. People with cameras, snapping shots of friends and families making peace signs; fathers sharing sweets with their daughters while mothers tried to wipe spilled drinks and foods from their sons' jackets; strangers having random snow fights, or joining in the making of uninspired snowmen.

It wasn't an entirely carefree environment, though. For all the smiling faces and wasted money carelessly lost on impossible arcade games, there was a tenseness in the air. Children who were not on rides found themselves unable to get less than three feet away from their parents. No one went anywhere on their own. Everyone was ready to run should a psychopath suddenly charge them from behind the_ dango_ stand.

Such vigilance, yet no one had noticed a distraught man in their midst.

"He might still be in here, hiding at another ride," Michael said supportively when a search of the area around the carrousel conclusively failed to produce Brooklyn. "He thought he saw ... whoever it was, and went off to find a better hiding place—"

"Parker!" An officer whose voice Tala recognized the voice as the one he'd heard over the phone during Michael's call came over, accompanied by a dowdy woman with a toddler on her hip and an older girl walking at her side. "Witnesses. Tell the detectives what you saw, ma'am."

"There was a young man here about half an hour ago," said the woman to Michael and Tala. She pointed to the back of the row of portable restrooms hidden from immediate view. She placed a hand on her older daughter's shoulder. "Haruhi had to use the toilet—"

"Mom!" the girl said, blushing.

"I let her go on her own, but she soon returned because there was someone hiding back there."

"I thought he was hurt," said the girl, eyes wet with sympathetic tears. "He had blood on his hands and t-shirt. I thought he'd hurt himself."

"I tried talking to him too, but he kept asking us to leave," continued the woman, jiggling the content toddler in her arms.

"He was talking to me on the phone," Tala said, confirming this. "He did address someone a couple of times."

"Yes, he did have a phone with him. The poor thing was in an awful state," said the woman. "He was bloodied, and gripping what looked like an iron rod in one hand. He wasn't wearing any shoes or jacket. I told Haruhi to keep an eye on him while I went to find someone from security, but he was gone by the time I got back."

"Where did he go?" Tala asked the girl.

"He went with the man," she said.

Michael looked worried now. The presence of an unanticipated stranger was hardly ever a good thing.

"He went with him willingly?" Tala asked.

The girl nodded, but then shook her head.

"Kinda. The man took him by that arm and he tried to pull away, but he wasn't strong enough. The man said something and he finally got up and went with him."

"What did this man look like?"

"I don't know," she said, biting her lip. "Kinda old, but not really. His hair was white but he didn't look like he could be anyone grandpa. He was tall, like, basketball player tall, and had really wide shoulders, and was wearing a long grey coat and a big hat."

"Did you see where they went?" Michael asked.

"That way," she said, pointing confidently at the exit. "I watched them walk across the street and into that parking garage. I think they took the stairs too."

Michael signalled two uniformed officer who had just arrived on the scene. Briefing them in short, he sent them and the fourth plain-clothed officer (the one who had been with him, Steven and Eddie from the start) on ahead.

"I don't think he was injured, detectives," said the mother told Michael, drawing the attention back on herself. "I couldn't see any cuts on him. The blood was only on his hands, as if he had touched something bloody. At first I thought it was fake blood; that maybe he worked at the haunted house, but the look in his eyes was genuine fear. I've never seen such a look before. He was also very pale and thin, and his lips were dry and cracked. He ... " She covered her mouth, hushing the infant when it whimper, sensing her distress. "I should never have left him alone. He looked so scared ... Please, you have to help him."

"If you or your daughter remember anything, give us a call," Michael said, handing her a card with his number on it. "You've been a big help. Thank you."

"It's the police's fault," Tala said as they hurried across the street, towards the crowded parking garage. "Why didn't anyone ever step in, before it got to this stage? If someone had done something, had gotten Brooklyn away from that hellhole and demon of a father, he wouldn't be in this mess."

Michael sighed and readjusted his cap.

"Not this again. We can't doanything unless the victim files a complaint, which Brooklyn never did. And why are you so sure it's his dad?"

"Brooklyn said it was his father."

"You said that Brooklyn _mentioned_ his father: he did not openly accused him."

"He was hardly in the right state of mind to voice his fears eloquently, Michael. He said that he saw 'him' before hanging up on me. I've read the files. Brooklyn's father fits the description of the man in the coat: tall, well-built, white hair."

Reaching the top of the stairs that led to second parking level, Tala grabbed hold of a nearby railing, masking his exhaustion by pretending to be bending down to examine the ground for blood. Steven and Eddie, who had caught up with them on in the stairwell, kept climbing to the next level. Michael stayed with him.

"Something happened earlier that sent—what's Brooklyn's father's name again ... ?"

"Carlyle. Weird name. Born to foreign parents here in Japan."

"Carlyle doesn't often allow Brooklyn to leave the manor, but he brought him along with him this time," Tala said as they patrolled aisles upon aisles of cars, looking for anything suspect. "Something happens, I don't know what, but it sets off Carlyle's short temper. Brooklyn's present, making him an easy target. Things get so bad he panics, takes advantage of the less-fortified environment of their hotel and escapes. His father follows, finds him and either feeds him some insincere apology or outright commands him to go back with him. That butler, Kiba, could be waiting in the car, somewhere in here."

"Why bother parking all the way up here when you've got a driver who could wait on the side of the road, closer to the fair, ready to speed off the moment they climb in? For that matter, why take the car in the first place? Without a coat, Brooklyn couldn't have been outside for long. They must be staying someplace nearby for him to have reached the fair on foot, without his toes freezing off due to lack of footwear."

"Hey!" Steve called as he clambered back down the stairs to meet them at the exit. "Call just came in. They're located the hotel where the Kingstons are staying at. You know, to see whether the father might know what's happened to his son."

"I'm sure he knows," Tala said, scoffing.

"And?" Michael asked, more open-minded at this moment.

"Carlyle Kingston's in his hotel room, which he hasn't left since last night."

"Told you," Michael said to Tala. "For once, it wasn't him."

Steven shrugged.

"Yeah, he does have an alibi."

"The butler?"

"He has one two. After all, being dead is a pretty strong alibi, isn't it?"

Neither Tala nor Michael could refute that.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 13.09**_

Carlyle Kingston, a tall and athletic man in his late fifties, lay sprawled in the middle of his grand bed, still in his nightshirt and _only_ his nightshirt. The thick curtains surrounding his four poster bed lay ripped on one side, pulled down by hands that had left red handprints on the heavy velvet. The medical examiner on the scene concluded that Carlyle had died from manual strangulation: the long dark bruise across his throat had been made by a long object that had been applied with enough force to crush his trachea and fracture his cervical spine. It could not yet be determined whether he was still alive when the multiple stab wounds had been inflicted, nor when his genitals had been sliced off. An apparent blockage in the toilet was a good clue as to where they might have gone.

Lying with his head in a pool of blood on the bathroom tiles and the rest of his naked body twisted on the carpeted bedroom floor, Kiba Ozawa had been struck with such force his skull had split wide open. The blow had caught him between the eyes, causing him to fall backwards, meaning he'd been hit while exiting the bathroom. He was wearing only his socks. His fingers were missing, probably clogging up the toilet along with his late master's privates.

A quick reconstruction of what had happened strongly supported the theory that Kiba had been present, running his master's bath in the bathroom, unaware that Carlyle was being murdered in the room next door. The killer had then waited just outside the bathroom door, which apparently had been closed, and had struck out when Kiba had stepped out, unknowingly putting himself directly in a lethal path. A bloody smear of a handprint showed where the killer had pressed himself against the wall in waiting.

"Guess the butler didn't do it."

"Could have been a hooker."

"A surprise attack killed the butler," said the medical examiner, "but she would have to be a weightlifting world champion in order to physically subdue someone like him long enough to choke him."

"Then how do you explain the straps?" a rookie officer who had welcomed himself to their discussion group asked, staring at the black leather hanging in twists and loops from the bed's high frame like giant spider webs. "And the sex toys? And the camera? Looks like a kinky, paid-by-the-hour bondage session gone wrong. Kingston hires a couple of hookers, has his way with them, while the butler tapes, then things sour when it's time to pay. The first time I got called to a crime scene it was almost exactly like this one, except the hooker was caught still humping the body of the husband after she'd put a bullet through both his and his wife's heads."

"Here, kid, go get me a drink and use the change to buy yourself a cookie," Steven said, pressing some money into the officer's hand. He waited until the muttering rookie had shuffled off before turning back to Tala, Michael and Eddie. "I think it's pretty clear what happened here."

Michael and Eddie nodded.

"No."

"Tala, take a good look arou—"

"Brooklyn did _not_ do this," Tala said stubbornly, talking through Eddie's reasoning.

"Everyone's got their boiling point," Michael said, coming to Steven's defence. "Bad enough his own dad used him as a prag, but it was all the more humiliating that that goddamn butler would just sit there and film the whole thing. It's all here, Tala. These two old farts weren't fucking each other, and the front desk confirmed that Brooklyn had checked in with them and that he had called for some room service this morning, asking for breakfast, which puts him at the scene of the crime."

"Enough whips and plugs to service a brothel," Eddie then pointed out, though they jointly refused to look at the chest of grotesque sex toys that had been left open at the foot of the bed.

"There's a fire poker missing from the living room," said the medical examiner, re-entering. "Didn't one of you mention that a witness reported seeing Brooklyn with what looked like a metal rod in the fair?"

"There's our murder weapon."

"He did_ not_ do it!"

"Maybe he didn't plan it—Tala!" Michael called after him when he stormed out the room, forcing him to follow. "Are you even listening to me?"

"No, because _you _are not listening to _me_," Tala said, allowing himself to be caught and forced to a standstill. He would not be persuaded, however. "Mentally and physically, Brooklyn could never stand up to his father. He thought that this was the way the world works and that this was how a father's meant to love a son, no matter how painful it was. Nothing that man could ever do would break his spell over Brooklyn."

"Explain then the fire poker."

Tala hesitated. Sitting down on a plush armchair, he sighed as he stared at his shoes. He had pulled on two different pairs in his rush to leave his apartment. No one had brought this up.

"If the killer was quiet enough to subdue and murder Carlyle while Kiba was in the bathroom then he could have killed them both without Brooklyn, who could have been in another room, hearing a thing. Killer escapes, leaving the stoker he used lying on the floor. Brooklyn comes in and finds his father and butler dead. He thinks the killer could still be around so he grabs the stoker for protection and runs out."

"When you find a dead body in your hotel room common sense tells you to get security and stay close to as many people as possible. Safety in numbers," Michael challenged, taking a seat opposite him before the dark, one-stoker-less fireplace. "Who in their right mind just runs out into the streets without alerting anyone. All he had to do was scream help and the entire hotel staff would have come to his aid."

"He doesn't know that there are good people out there. His father painted such a gloomy and cruel picture of the world and the people in it that Brooklyn now feels like he has no one left; that, without his father there to 'protect' him, evasion is his best chance of survival."

"He called you. He knows that you would help him. If he's so scared, and only had you to trust, why didn't he stay put?"

"Because someone took him before we could get there."

"Suppose."

"What, you think that girl was lying about the man in the coat?"

"Someone like that would have caught the attention of others, wouldn't he?"

A small team passed them, pushing two gurneys with body bags folded on top of them.

"You didn't hear him on the phone, Michael," Tala said as he stared at the antique chandelier above their heads, counting each individual crystal bead hanging from its frame. "He sounded mad with fear. He was crying, begging me to help him. He could barely form complete sentences. You can't fake that. No one could kill two men in cold blood and then turn around and portray such a traumatized victim. I had a hard time trying to get him to focus. He just kept mumbling strange things about shadows and blood and how he would be safe with me because I'd done nothing wrong and ... "

"Why the pause?"

' _... He won't hurt you ... you haven't angered him ... You've done nothing wrong; nothing at all ... Save me from my sins too!'_

Tala bolted out of the chair, leaving a confused Michael to follow him back to the master bedroom.

"What's up?" Eddie asked, looking away from where the butler's body was being bagged.

"Tala's had a revelation, I guess," Michael said.

"Where?" Tala asked himself, ignoring them all as he walked around, searching walls and furniture. He paced from corner to corner, searching avidly. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?" Steven asked.

"Hey!" a few people shouted when Tala began tearing down the rest of the bed curtains.

The curtains fell, pooling around the bed.

"Michael," he said, staring up at the network of straps. "In here."

Michael was as clueless as the rest, but with everyone staring at him he sighed and walked over to join Tala in staring at the tangled mess of black leather suspended above the body.

"It's in here," Tala said, slowly walking around the bed without taking his eyes off the straps. "Look closely."

"What are they doing?" asked the rookie cop, returning with a cup of coffee for Steven and a large cookie for himself. "Did we find anything?"

Despite circling the bed twice, Tala found nothing, but it had to be in there. Those straps weren't just hanging. They were twisted, looped, knotted and tied in no logical pattern, but no matter which angle he studied them from he found nothing.

"Satisfied?" Michael asked, plopping down on the side of the bed, making Carlyle's body bounce. "Hey, here's an idea: how about telling me what got you so worked up? I promise not to laugh."

Not to be distracted, Tala retraced his steps, patrolling the area around the bed diligently. To everyone's surprise, including his own, it was Michael's carelessness that eventually led to the find.

"Tala," Michael sighed, dropping his head back in an exaggerated show of exasperation. "Please don't make me start a petition to have you committed to the loony bin ... What the fuck is that?"

Those standing didn't know what he was talking about, but Tala, realizing his incorrect approach to the puzzle, quickly knelt down on the bed to follow Michael's gaze up into the web of straps above their heads.

" ... Oh, come on!" Michael said when he realized his eyes were not playing tricks on him. "Isn't today _Saturday_?"

Steven and Eddie joined them, leaning over the body and tilting their heads to one side, just like Carlyle's was, to read the word that had been formed through ingeniously rearranged strips of bound leather.

_**LUST**_

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 21.17**_

The media were having a field day, as though the notion that a serial killer could strike on a day other than Monday was a revolutionary concept. The hotel was besieged by flashing cameras and microphones were being thrust into the faces of anyone entering or leaving through the front doors. Word of a bloodied young man, carrying a stoker, hiding in the fair, had been picked up and spread like wild fire, causing people to flee and the fair to close its gates early today. Someone in the department was guaranteed to lose his or her job for leaking the information about the strapped word. Every news station was on the story now, interviewing anyone who had ever been to a fair, by the looks of it. One individual in particular was drawing a lot of attention.

"_I had my suspicions it was Dox,"_ said the dowdy woman, who had done up her hair and donned some makeup for her big TV interview. She hugged her infant on her hip while keeping an overtly motherly hold around her teenaged daughter's shoulders. _"I knew right then and there that he was bad. Covered in blood, he was. Looked very shifty and didn't want to talk to me. I made sure to get my girls to safety first before I tried to call the police, but he slipped away."_

The teenager looked up at her mother, who gave her a subtle nudge to keep her mouth shut and not draw attention away from her. The girl looked down, embarrassed by the spectacle her parent was making of them both.

"_We heard that he left with someone. Isn't that what your daughter said?"_ asked the reporter.

"_Why, er, yes. That's what I meant: he slipped away with someone. That person brought him a coat, probably to help hide the blood and murder weapon. I was but a couple of feet away from him when I tried talking to him, you know. He was a good actor, but I saw right through him."_

"_If you so strongly believed that he was Dox from the start, why did you leave your two young children alone with him?"_ asked the reporter, posing good questions but hungrily believing anything that came out of the woman's mouth.

"_I ... er ... I knew he wouldn't hurt them."_

"_But this is a man connected to six brutal killings."_

"_He must have had enough blood loss for one day,"_ said the dowdy woman authoritatively.

The television screen went black.

"Two-faced bitch," Michael sneered, tossing the remote down and getting to his feet. "You would have thought Brooklyn was her son, the way she was carrying on and sobbing when she spoke to us, and now she's convinced he's the devil reincarnate."

"Television today's nothing _but_ rubbish," Emily said, scribbling away on the already-chaotic white board, putting down anything that came to mind. "We have to stick with the facts. Main questions—" she encircled it on the board "—is why did Dox murder two days earlier than expected?"

Balancing his chair on its back legs, Eddie effortlessly spun a basketball on one finger. It came natural to him, and at times he seemed to forget he was even doing it, but this constant use of his hands left his mind free of distractions.

"There's no concrete evidence that he would only kill on Mondays," he said, rocking back and forth in his, causing the diamond studs in his ears to flash every time they caught the light.

Michael, stretched out on the couch with his cap covering his face, interrupted his recreational card shuffling to toss a playing card in Eddie's direction.

"Except for the fact that he'd only killed on Monday until now," he said, tilting his head to one side and peering out from under his cap.

Eddie picked up and tossed back the card. The basketball never stopped spinning.

"That's not concrete, Michael."

Michael executed a perfect riffle shuffle, then held the cards out to Tala.

"What, you want his killing schedule carved into a slab, Eddie?"

"It's a break in the pattern we've seen so far," Emily said, impatiently tapping the board. It sounded like she was agreeing with Michael, but then she said, "Dox is too meticulous a planner for this to have been a mistake. He must have had a reason to change the date."

Tala choose a card from the fanned deck, looked at it, returned it, and shook his head when Michael magically predicted the wrong card.

"Stupid trick," Michael grumbled, forced to settle on just shuffling them.

"It's not Dox."

By now Tala was getting used to being looked at as though he was from Mars. He had been on the receiving end of many such looks today. Since Michael's legs were stretched out behind him on the couch, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, toying with an elastic band Michael had shot at him earlier. Despite being the voice of a very unpopular opinion, he still shook his head at them, refusing to give in to the mass misconception.

The statement was so shocking even the basketball stood still, still perfectly poised on Eddie's finger.

"What do you mean 'It's not Dox'? He left his calling card, which _you_ knew to look for."

Tala snapped the band and it flew across the small office they had taken over for themselves in secret. Its rightful owner was away on some tax fraud investigation and Michael was much more skilled in producing keys he shouldn't be in possession of that card tricks. Not even Emily, who should have been spoken out against the idea of using a colleague's office without his permission or knowledge, could turn down the offer of a quiet haven, away from the busy work floor. Tala's office would have served just as well, but he would not go anywhere near it. Luckily, neither would Michael, which spared Tala from having to lie his way through an explanation. Michael had reminded them that, although he would like nothing better than using any excuse to finish his fistfight with Johnny, he did not want to push his luck with Bryan. Being currently bombarded by demands and inquiries, the Captain was in no forgiving mood right now. Anyone who pissed him off would regret it for years to come.

For his part, Tala had kept a very low profile since returning to the station with the others. With all the excitement generated by the murders, no one paid him any attention, which was good because wagging tongues would soon reach Johnny's ears and the last thing Tala needed to endure was having to face his assailant/colleague. Even though he hadn't seen hair nor hide of the Scotsman all day, Tala was feeling incredibly nauseous, and tired. He wasn't ready to be back yet. When not thinking of the murders, all he could think of was his bed.

Standing, he picked up another marker and, with Emily's blessing, wiped the board clean. He made two columns. At the top of the left column he wrote PREVIOUS SINS; at the top of the right he wrote LUST.

"Situation?" he asked the others, tapping the left column.

"First four murders were done on a Monday," Michael said.

"Technically, they weren't," Eddie said, sitting up. He began counting them off on his fingers. "We _found_ Kevin Ginko on Monday 3rd, but estimated time of death was Friday 31st or Saturday 1st. We _found_ Gary Gao on Monday 10th, but the tenants had been noticing the smell for days and the autopsy determined he'd died either on the 4th or the 5th. We _found_ Wyatt Ishida on the Monday 17th, but he didn't die until the 18th."

"The only person who actually died on a Monday was Oliver Polanski," Emily said.

"All that security around Polanski must have made it impossible for Dox to get to him any earlier," Michael said, jiggling his legs to get his circulation going again. "He had to have taken a lot of risks to make the Monday deadline."

"And pulled it off nicely," Eddie said.

"So actually killing someone on a Monday was a break from his routine," Michaels said. "Then, by killing today, on a Saturday, does that mean Dox is back on track?"

"Maybe he wasn't counting on Brooklyn being there," Emile said. "It wasn't common practice for Carlyle Kingston to take his son with him on business trips. Had it not been for Brooklyn no one would have noticed Carlyle's absence until he missed his Monday meeting. The front desk sends someone up to check when his business partners call, the maid finds the bodies, we're notified, and another sin victim has been discovered on a Monday."

Tala jotted it all down.

"But," he said, "all of Dox's previous killings, regardless of timing, had been one person per sin. Why two this time?"

"But they were both guilty of lust."

"And thousands of lawyers and politicians and corporation CEOs are guilty of greed; and thousands of actors and models are too proud of themselves; and there are almost as many do-nothing druggies as there are overweight people; and yet Dox only choose one victim at a time. He isn't trying to get rid of them all. He just needs examples."

"Maybe he killed the butler because he caught him off guard," Eddie said, now dribbling the ball. "It certainly looked like an impulse strike. He'd just finished choking Carlyle when he suddenly hears the butler moving around in the bathroom. Hides just beyond the door; butler opens the door; BAM! right in the temple."

"The message wasn't like the others," Tala said, noting down this discrepancy. "Ginko scene: GREED burnt into the carpet. Gao scene: GLUTTONY smeared with grease on the wall. Ishida scene: SLOTH written in the dust on the wall. Polanksi scene: PRIDE written in lipstick on a mirror. Dox _wrote_ these with his own hands. Here, however, the word LUST was _spelled out_ with the straps."

"So he's just stepping up his game," Eddie said, still not convinced.

"Exactly," Tala said, surprising them. "But don't you see? Everything has been taken to the next level. First four murders, timed to be discovered on a Monday; this time, found two days in advanced. First four murders, one victim; this time, two victims. First four murders, sins written by hand; this time, sin elaborately incorporated into the scene. It's almost as if ... this was meant to ... outshine the previous murders."

"What, like show them up?"

"Yes."

" ... So now Dox is showing off to himself?"

"No."

"Where are you going with this then?"

"I think we should go to the one place everyone seems to be avoiding. Caution: I'm now gonna say something that going to make Tala very angry with me," Michael said, giving an apologetic shrug in advance, "but am I the only one who thinks it's interesting that Brooklyn, the sole 'survivor' of this massacre, was carrying the alleged murder weapon with him?"

Michael knew him well: Tala turned on him, enraged.

"Don't even _dare_, Michael."

"Brooklyn Kingston and Dox, the same person?" Eddie asked.

"Weren't you the one who thought it strange that he knew the order of the sins that had already been committed, despite having no contact with the outside world?" Michael asked Tala, trying to not aggravate the already tense standoff by speaking as professionally as possible. "I'm just saying ... "

"Don't know about the first four, but Brooklyn had more than enough reasons to want to kill his father and butler," Emily said, rubbing her eyes. This spontaneous new direction in thinking seemed to be sapping her of her life-force. Her long hair was loose, for once, framing her small shoulders, which sagged as she sat slumped back in a chair in an unusually lacklustre manner. "In which case I'm surprised it took him this long to fight back."

Eddie sighed. The basketball flew in a graceful arch and landed right in the paper wastebasket in the corner.

"Brooklyn had blood _and_ the murder weapon on him," he said. "Let's just break it down into the three main scenarios. 1) Brooklyn is Dox and just committed his fifth sin murder(s), 2) Brooklyn is not Dox, but he did kill his father and butler in a way very similar to Dox, or 3) Brooklyn did not kill anyone and is just a victim of circumstance. Which sounds the most likely?"

"From your tone of voice I can guess which one sounds most likely to _you_," Tala said. "Fine. Assume, for the sake of argument, why would Brooklyn/Dox kill Carlyle now? Dox is working up to something big. He is saving the worst sinner for last. Who could possibly be worst, in Brooklyn's case, than his own father, who has abused him his entire life? Why claim his father as the fifth sin victim, instead of the grand finale? No. It's neither Brooklyn _nor _Dox," he said, getting back to his earlier point. "Someone else killed these men and staged the scene to resemble a Dox murder."

Eddie turned to Michael, as if to implore him to talk some sense in Tala. Emily looked like she was trying her best to believe him, but it was hard to choose between what was admittedly convincing evidence and Tala's countering gut feeling.

"Okay," Michael said slowly when the tension reached unbearable levels. "Okay ... Let's go with Tala's idea for a second here. Why would someone want to replicate a Dox murder?"

Eddie sighed, but pitched in.

"Copycat killing. Saw all the attention Dox was getting and wants to share the glory and the front page."

"But no one knows who the real Dox is, and as far as public opinion goes these murders were committed by the original Dox. What unoriginal famewhore would be satisfied with not being given the credit he worked so hard to steal?"

"It's not a message to us ... It's a message to Dox himself," Tala said, leaning back to get a bigger picture. "This murderer took Dox's formula and enhanced it. He's taken Dox's masterpiece and mockingly copied it. Whoever Dox had planned for Monday's victim, it's now been ruined because this person has gone and beaten him at his own game. And, to further dispel the Brooklyn-did-it nonsense, how do you then explain the man who took him away from the fair? If Brooklyn committed the crime, who was the old man who was after him?"

"Only one person remembers having seen that so-called abduction, and it's the same eyewitness who's currently demonizing Brooklyn on national television?" Emily had to remind them. "Her account's all over the place. We can't trust her now."

"But it wasn't the mother who saw it actually happen; it was the teenage daughter, who knows her mother's distorting the facts."

"Her mother could have told her to make up the story from the very beginning; to juice it up a bit by bringing in the tall, dark bogey man. If you were to put either of those two on the stands the opposition would tear them apart."

The door opened and Steven shuffled in. Knowing what he had just been through, everyone offered sympathetic nods. Eddie even gave up his seat, allowing Steven to drop down heavily in it, gripping his mug.

"They should allow strong alcohol in this place," he grumbled, staring morosely at his black coffee. "I'm hitting the bar later. Someone better come with me because I am going to get smashed."

"Before you drink away the images, did you see anything unusual on the tape?"

Steven laughed, loudly and tortured.

"I've had, what, seven, eight girlfriends in the past?" Michael nodded; Eddie held up ten fingers. "Anyway. Slept with a total of maybe thirty women. Am the proud owner of over two hundred porn DVDs, been to Amsterdam, and investigated a slew of perverse sex crimes. And even_ then_, I'm ... Shit, man. That tape should be burned before its evilness begins attracting demons. I don't care, alright? I honestly don't care who murdered those two bastards because I would have crushed their skulls with my bare hands if they were still alive."

"Careful, Steven," Emily said, pouring him some more coffee. "No matter what they did, they did not deserve to die. That's the law."

"Tape's still in the player. The law's more than welcome to view all six hours of it."

Emily looked away with a shiver.

"Was there anything other than their sexploits caught on tape?" she asked. "Was there someone else present? Or did they mention someone else? Any discussion that they believed they would be targeted? Mentions of death threats or suspicious characters following them?"

"Unless 'Stick it in him deeper and jiggle it, Master Kingston' is code for 'Help! We're being stalked!', then no."

Tala dug his nails into his knees as he forced himself not to think about how bad the acts on that tape had to be in order to turn a hardcase like Steven's stomach.

" ... Did Brooklyn look like he was enjoying it?"

"Dude!"

"Jesus, Michael!"

Michael returned their disbelief with an affronted look of his own.

"Okay, you thinking I'm getting off on this is totally insulting!" he said, pulling off his cap. "What I meant was whether Brooklyn showed any rebellion? Did he just do as told, or did he at any point object or tried to get away? Did he threaten them?"

"I cannot believe you guys," Tala said, scoffing bitterly. "Brooklyn is the _victim_ here! Not only was he raped and humiliated by his father and Kiba, but he also witnessed their murders, fled in fear for his life, and still ended up in the hands of the man who we should be scrutinizing. Instead you're just trying to push all the blame on him because he's the most convenient target."

Having read their scrawled notes on the whiteboard, Steven chose to take the middle road on this one.

"Listen here, I'm not yet convinced that Kingston could be Dox, but I'll be damned if he did not kill those two. Yes, Brooklyn is the victim of rape, and in turn his father and butler are now the victims of murder. _I _want to kill two already dead men just from watching that video: how do you think the victim himself feels, after all these years? How would you feel if someone did something to you, Tala? Wouldn't you want revenge?"

Tala took a deep breath and looked away. Michael tried to catch his eye, but he further distanced himself from the rest by walking over to the window, his back to them.

' _... How would you feel ... if someone did that to you ... wouldn't you want revenge?'_

'Keep it together,' he told himself. 'You cannot break down here in front of everyone.'

' _... Can't believe you actually bled,' _Johnny's voice snickered in his ear. '_ ... keep this a secret ... we're going to have to hold another little meeting just like this one ... again and again ... '_

The sound of the running shower; of wet skin hitting wet skin; of his pitiful gasps and moans; of Johnny's satisfied tone thereafter. The pain, and the feel of those hands on him; and the knowledge that he'd be equally helpless should it happen again.

'_If someone did that to you ... wouldn't you want revenge?'_

'Yes. Yes, I would. I do,' Tala thought, folding his arms tightly against his body.

The door opened, turning heads. Tala composed himself when he heard the others greet the Captain.

"So this is where you've all been hiding," Bryan said, leaning in the doorframe, looking like he could do with a getaway himself. He smiled across the room at Tala, pleased to see him. "Feeling better?"

"I'll manage," Tala said, hesitantly returning to the small group.

"You'd better been putting this room to good use," Bryan said to them all, wheeling over the large leather seat from behind the desk. "If anyone comes in and asks, I've been in here with you for the past fifteen minutes."

"Where _have _you been, if I may ask?"

"Avoiding the press and having a smoke up on the roof," Bryan said without pause. He did look a bit more at ease. "With that out of the way, I can now function for the next twelve hours. Starting with notifying you on a little detail which I notice no one seems to be studying. Beginning at the beginning, when were we first warned that today was going to be one of our least favourite days?"

"When I received that call from Brooklyn," Tala said.

"And how was Brooklyn even able to make that call when he was outside?"

"Mobile phone. Modern technology has advanced since our heyday as kids, sir," Steven said.

"We're both too old for this," Bryan shot back, scoffing.

" ... What would Brooklyn Kingston be doing with a cell phone?" Michael asked, finally getting it. "Carlyle didn't even let him watch TV, let alone talk to anyone via phone."

"Moreover, how did he know Tala's number?"

"I did give it to him," Tala said, answering Emily's question. "When Michael and I went to his house I handed him my card. He must have kept it, or memorized the number."

"Brooklyn didn't own a cell phone," Bryan said, getting them back on track. "All three of his father's phones are accounted for. Kiba didn't have a phone of his own."

"Brooklyn could have stolen it from someone at the fair."

"It's astonishing enough he managed to get so far without being noticed. Someone _would_ have noticed a half-clothed guy if he got close enough to swipe a phone."

Cutting to the chase, Bryan flipped open the thin file he held.

"Trackers pinpointed the call Brooklyn made to Tala from the fair at 10.47 this morning. That same phone made a call before that, at 9.58 AM, from within the Kingstons' suit. We were able to trace the subscription given to a Violleta A.S. Ryu."

"Who the fuck?"

Tala had never heard the name either. Writing it down, he tried to recall whether he'd ever seen it in a document somewhere, but it was such an unusual name it surely would have stuck to him if he'd seen in before.

"So the killer could have been a woman after all," Eddie said.

"Wouldn't someone have noticed a female bodybuilder trudging around in that hotel? It's not something you see every day."

"Whoever she is, she subscribed just a few days ago," Bryan said. "No records of an address."

"It has to be a pseudonym," Emily said. "Whoever it is knew the risk of us tracing his number back to him, so he got another one under a false name."

Tala twirled the whiteboard marker round and round as he stared at the name on the paper. Violleta A.S. Ryu ... Such a ridiculously elaborate name for a pseudonym.

"And was he expecting an important call that couldn't wait until after he'd finished bashing a man's head in?" Michael asked.

"More like expecting to make a call while on the job."

"An accomplice?"

"That would kinda support Tala's claim that it isn't Dox: he works alone."

Or did it prove just the opposite? The photos of the Polanski murder—one of the photos had revealed a third person in the room, their identity hidden in the shadows.

' _... he's in the shadows ... '_

Brooklyn had used those exact words during the call. He had seen someone in the shadows in his father's bedroom. He had seen the killer, and the killer had seen him; had chased him; had caught him.

It was _not_ Brooklyn, because he had been abducted by the killer.

It was _not_ Dox, because he was being mocked by the killer.

Then who could it be?

"Yeah?" Steven said gruffly, answering his phone that had just gone off. He sat up, raising everyone's curiosity. "You sure? You're absolutely sure? ... Fuck."

"What happened?"

"I left a couple of guys at the parking garage, just in case," Steven said, already on his feet. "While passing a car on the fifth floor they noticed something leaking from the back. The trunk wasn't fully closed so they opened it. Guess who they found stuffed in there, wearing a long grey duster and a wide hat, with a fire poker rammed straight through his head? And it's not Brooklyn."

"Found our bogey man," Michael said.

"Does the bogey man have a proper name?" Bryan asked.

"According to his driver's licence he used to be Makoto Murakami, dead at age sixty-nine," Steven said, sharing looks with Eddie.

"Old Man Mako? Seriously?" Eddie asked.

"You know him?"

"He's before you kids' time," Steven said to Michael and Emily. "Eddie and I were investigating a string of assaults against minors, which led us straight to Murakami. He had a history of snapping pictures of children and young teens at community pools, two counts of sexual misdemeanour charges and one false charge of statutory rape back in 1977."

"How so 'false charge'?" Emily asked.

"He willingly had sex with the two defendants because he thought at the time that they were underage, but then it turned out they were in their mid-twenties and one of them had given him gonorrhoea so he brought them to court."

"I remember that one," Bryan said. "Would have been a solid case had someone from the defence not stolen some of Muramaki's confiscated kiddie porn for herself. In the end the case was dismissed."

"He tried to sue them for criminal transmission of _the clap_?"

"He tried to sue them for misrepresentation because they'd lied about their age."

"It's a miracle he lived to be sixty-nine."

"Would have turned seventy this Tuesday."

"So he thought he'd pick himself up a little birthday present and bring it home for wrapping."

"Scenario numero four," Eddie said, swiping Tala's marker and adding his thoughts to the board. "Mr Murakami's hanging around the fair, looking for a kid to steal, but with all the killings going around no parent it letting their kid out of their sight. Having honed the skills of spotting the vulnerable, Murakami notices Brooklyn and takes him instead."

"_Cinq_," Michael piped up with a poor French accent, stealing the marker from Eddie. He spoke as he wrote, "_Le _Murakami's been hanging around for a couple of days, notices that Carlyle Kingston, who is staying in a nearby swanky hotel, has got himself a pretty son, breaks into the room, kills those in his way, Brooklyn temporarily escapes but he tracks him down at the fair and grabs him."

"And why would a bona fide paedo who has never killed before murder two men in order to abduct someone who is almost ten years older than his preferred victims?"

"Ah, come on, Tala!" Michael said, tossing the cap of the marker at him. "You wanted the murderer to be someone other than Dox or Brooklyn, and here he is. "

"More importantly," Bryan intercut, "he's dead, and we know who was with him."

"We don't know—"

"Enough, Tala," Eddie said, finally losing his cool. He looked annoyed at Tala's persistence. "It sucks, but that's life. All evidence points in his direction. Brooklyn Kingston is a rape victim, and it's turned him into a murderer. You can blame the father for warping this guy's mind, but he's dead, along with two others."

"Self-defence," Tala said, forced to resort to his weakest argument.

"There's self-defence, and then there's skewering a guy through the skull and attempting to hide the body. We have to put out a warning, Captain," Eddie said, turning to Bryan. "Our guys are out there, thinking they're looking for a harmless person who'll happily cooperate. We can't risk someone approaching this guy and getting his skull cracked as well. Whether he's Dox or not, Brooklyn Kingston has killed."

"Bryan, don't," Tala said. "You have to trust me on this. It's _not _Kingston. If you put out that call any cop who finds him will be more likely to shoot him if he even attempts to resist arrest."

"If he's innocent then why would he resist arrest?" Steven asked, having lost some sympathy for Brooklyn after the latest gruesome discovery.

"Because he's frightened!" Tala exploded. "He's never been on his own before. He saw his father murdered! He thinks the murderer's still after him! He'll be scared witless by anyone who tries to apprehend him now!"

"Tala, listen to yourself," Emily said. "Brooklyn's frightened. He isn't thinking straight. What if a citizen tries to help him and he thinks they're trying to harm him? What if he kills them too? Will _that_ be justified? We have to protect the public."

"And who's protecting Brooklyn then? Isn't that _our_ job?"

" ... Your call, Captain," Steven said.

"Bryan, please, listen to me—" Tala said, but Bryan held up his hand.

"Eddie, Michael, get down to the parking garage; see what's happening and what's been discovered. Steven, get on the techs' case: we might be able to track Brooklyn if he still has that phone. Emily, relay the message to all search parties: Kingston may be armed and dangerous. Tala, you—"

"Forget it. I'm going home," Tala said, roughly pushing past Bryan. "If Brooklyn gets gunned down than it's his blood on your hands, not mine. You're no better than the rest of them, Bryan!"

He didn't need the stunned silence he left behind in the room to tell him that he'd crossed the line. Nor did he need to look back as he strode down the corridor to know that Bryan was catching up to him. He expected the hand before it grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall. He could even brace himself in advance, making sure the pain than lanced through his sore back did catch him unaware.

"I'm sorry," he said, arching his back away from the unforgiving wall, but it only made the pain worse.

"Anyone else, _anyone else_, and I would have kicked them off this case and banished them to desk duties for the next five years," Bryan said, not about to let him off so easily. "Even though you are not an officer, in these walls I am your superior and Captain and I will not be spoken to in that voice in my own department by one of my own underlings. You will not disrespect me in front of others like that again, understood?"

"Sorry," Tala repeated, worming in his grip.

The hands pulled him away from the wall. He sighed, relieved, as he was allowed to rest his head on the other's chest while Bryan gently rubbed the tender area, trying to soothe the burn.

"Me too," Bryan whispered. "I forgot about your back."

"I didn't forget my place. I know I was out of order. But I also know I'm not wrong about this, Bryan. It couldn't have been Brooklyn. He's no killer, and he's certainly not Dox. Murakami was at the wrong place at the wrong time, but he's not the Carlyle and Kiba's killer. Neither is the original Dox. I know they are the three strongest suspects right now, but it's not right."

"Nonetheless, a suspect is a suspect. And it will be for Brooklyn's own best interest to be off the streets. We're not shooting to kill here, Tala. It's just a warning to my men to approach Brooklyn with caution. Unlike Muramaki, once we get Brooklyn we'll restrain him so that he cannot hurt anyone, including himself. Whoever he is, guilty or innocent, we won't get any answers from him if he's dead, so killing him is the last thing we want to do right now."

It was some reassurance, but Bryan was refusing to pick sides.

"Why can't you trust me on this?" Tala wondered. "I'd hope that you, my partner, would at least back me up. Do you also think I'm wrong?"

"The problem with being Captain, Tala, is that I am ultimately responsible. I don't know everything, but I will not give an order unless I have come to the decision that it's the right thing to do. And right now, bringing in Brooklyn is the right thing to do." He saw that Tala was not satisfied with this answer. "Give me something to work with, Tala. You are free to speculate, but I cannot do anything with that alone. I need evidence before I can back your theories. Here, this might be a good starting point for you."

He pressed the note Tala had scribbled on earlier into his hand.

"I have done nothing but trust and respect your work and opinion so far," he whispered. "As a lover, I want nothing more than to believe you. As an official, I cannot let personal feelings get in the way of protocol. Bring me something, anything, proving your claims and I will do everything in my power to see that Brooklyn's name is cleared."

It wasn't much, but it was something. Tala nodded. At last, someone who believed in him. There was someone there for him. Their lips brushed, the sweet kiss was almost sealed, when ...

"Oy, Kuznetsov!"

Running showers. White tiles. Red blood.

Pulling away guiltily just as Johnny McGregor turned the corner, Tala dropped his eyes, afraid Bryan, confused, would be able to read the whole story in them. His hands itched to brush at his own body, as if that could clean away the resurging memories of the hands that had touched him and held him down against his will. His shoulders and spine tingled, making him flinch involuntarily as the fine hairs on them stood up, reacting to the imaginary breath breathing down on them.

Gripping hands. Clumsy thrusts.

He had not dared to attempt to formulate a plan on how to handle an inevitable run-in with Johnny in the long run (he was still working on trying to repress and forget as much of what had happened as possible); the consequence of his procrastination was that he now found himself completely unprepared for this confrontation.

Panting. Groaning. Heaving.

For his part, Johnny did not show any suspicious behaviour; not even when he spotted Tala.

"There you are," he said, addressing Bryan. "Those squatters back there told me you're around here somewhere. Big news, today's murders, but have you forgotten the meeting to discuss the reports of Hiwatari having been spotted in Thailand? The Thai officers are here, waiting in the conference room to begin discussions."

"I am perfectly capable of reading the time, McGregor," Bryan said. He kept a hand on Tala's hip, not caring that Johnny was right there. He knew that Johnny knew about them, and was daring the highlander to make even the slightest of slights in his presence. "The meeting's not for another fifteen minutes. Is that all? We're in the middle of something here."

Bryan thought Johnny's smirk was a forged response of indifference. Tala knew Johnny was trying to stop himself from openly grinning at Bryan's oblivion. He was loving it, inwardly laughing his head off at the Captain's expense, thinking how humiliated Bryan would be if he were to tell him then and there that his orders had failed to save Tala that day; how humiliated he'd be to know that, while he now stood here with a protective hand on Tala's clothed waist, Johnny's hands had run themselves over Tala's naked body.

Seeing Tala in person for the first time since the shower assault, Johnny seemed unable to keep his eyes off of him, even when Tala backed away, keeping Bryan between them.

"Actually, sir," he said, "I was just leaving. Thank you for your time."

"Are you sure?" Bryan asked Tala, hoping to finish what they'd started.

"I just need to lie down for a while. I'll be in again tomorrow."

Tearing his eyes away from Tala's lower half, Johnny winked at him. Bryan did not see it.

"Keep up the good work, Ivanov," he said. "Hope your back's getting better!"

Not caring that he was giving the Scotsman's suddenly flaming eyes a full few of his posterior, Tala turned and hurried away, daring so much as a single tear to fall from his shimmering eyes.

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 22.32**_

Waiting along with a small group of fellow tenants for an elevator, Tala felt no better off than when he'd left the station. Heavy snow had slowed traffic to a creep, giving him an extra thirty minutes to agonize over his predicament. Maintenance work on his apartment complex's elevators had bought him an additional five minutes so far. A few impatient, healthy tenants had given up waiting and taken the stairs. Those remaining were either exhausted from a long day's work, burdened with too many shopping bags to haul up flights of stairs, or just too lazy to make the climb to their floors.

Sitting on the edge of the giant plant pot next to the elevators, Tala did not join his fellow tenants in their disgruntled discussion on how unacceptable it was to being paying as much rent as they did and still not have the world waiting at their feet all the time. It was a tempting thought to offer any one of them a handsome percentage of his inheritance in exchange for swapping their so-called problems with his.

'It's bad enough you run from them,' he scolded himself, 'but now you want to dump them on someone else? Is it any wonder Johnny's able to walk over you like that?'

He'd _run_. Like a frightened dog he'd turned tail and run.

'Bryan was there. Johnny wouldn't try anything with Bryan there, so why didn't I feel safe?'

Was this it? Had Johnny actually succeeded in driving a wedge between them? He was certainly thinking of the Scotsman a lot more than his much gentler, kinder lover. He had tried imagining him in bed with Bryan, sharing every pleasurable touch, kiss, stroke and suckle together, but those passionate images were continuously being supplanted by forceful grasps, tugs and thrusts. Bryan's sensual small talk kept getting drowned out by Johnny's grating voice, panting and grunting like an animal.

"Are you cold?" a woman asked Tala, noticing him rubbing his arms. She turned to her husband, who had become the unelected moderator of the debate. "What did I tell you? The heating in this place also needs seeing to. God, this place is going to the dogs!"

DING

Both elevators arrived, running smoothly, and everyone forgot about their half-hearted revolution and piled in, complimenting the repair men who stepped out on a job well-done. The last to get in, Tala just managed to squeeze himself in. With so many people on board the elevator stopped at every floor. Once enough people had gotten off to allow more elbow room Tala was able to dig out his keys. Hooked in the keychain was the untidily folded piece of paper with the frustratingly outlandish name.

Another person got off, vacating his place against the elevator wall for Tala to fill.

'You're just one more problem on my list, Violleta A.S. Ryu,' he thought, staring at the name without much interest. "Drawing attention to yourself with such an eye-catching title. But you're also sloppy, allowing one of your victims to escape long enough to make a call on your phone, ruining your plans. Who do you think you are?"

Clever, that's what. Why did this name seem to be laughing at him? What private joke was it coyly playing on him? It was just a name. No, not even that. It was just a pseudonym.

The elevator stopped. The chairman couple of the Downstairs Committee of Temporary Outrage stepped out, loudly commenting on how it was nice to live in the better part of town with such excellent services. The doors slid close again.

'No.' Tala held up the paper to the light. 'Not even a pseudonym.'

Violleta A.S. Ryu

Taking a pen out of his bag, he held the paper against the wall and began scratching out likely words. The remaining passengers glanced over to see what the excitement was; unable to see what he was writing, they went back to staring at the blinking numbers over the doors.

By the time they'd reached the ninth floor he found what he thought was one word.

**V**i**o**l**le**ta A.**S**. Ryu

V-O-L-E-S = L-O-V-E-S

The doors opened, letting out two more people on the tenth floor.

Vio**l**le**ta** **A**.S. Ryu

L-T-A-A = T-A-L-A

A man with suitcase stepped out on the eleventh stop.

V**i**olleta A.S. **Ryu**

I-R-Y-U = ...

The doors slid open before him, but Tala could only stare at the solved mystery in the palm of his hands.

VIOLETTA A.S. RYU

YURI LOVES TALA

Red eyes. Tattooed face. Patronizing smirk.

Startled exclamations as he leapt out. Not stopping to apologize to those he'd bumped, he ran all the way to his door. Had he left his mobile at the station? Stupid. He'd have to make the call from his house phone.

'It's him! Not Brooklyn! Not Dox! It's _him_!' he thought over and over again as he jammed the keys in the lock and ran inside, leaving the keys in the door. 'Hiwatari, you bastard! You've done it again!'

Throwing down his bag in the hallway, he ran into the living room.

"Where's the phone? Have to inform the ... others ... "

"Don't you know how to knock, Officer Ivanov?"

Looking up from where he'd been solving the newspaper's daily crossword puzzle, Kai Hiwatari put down his glass of wine and calmly laced his fingers together, welcoming Tala with a courteous smile.

Snuggled up against Hiwatari, peeking over his scabbed knees with wide teal eyes (one of which had an ugly dark bruise beneath it), was Brooklyn Kingston, who grabbed Hiwatari's arm, frightened by Tala's sudden appearance.

"Father," he asked, startled and woozy, scooting even closer to Hiwatari, not quite able to focus thanks to the wine in his own glass. "Father, who is that?"

"It's all right," Hiwatari said, patting the tangled orange hair. "It's just Mother."

Tbc ...

* * *

A/N: So, this is, what, the _third_ time I end a chapter with Kai having invited himself into Tala's apartment? XD

What ho! What's this I see on the next page? Could it be ... Chapter 22 already??

Read & Review, please.


	22. January 29 II

**Title:** Sinners

**Author:** Ladya C. Maxine

**Rating:** R

**Summary:** see chapter one

**Warnings:** see chapter one

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. All original characters belong solely to me. I am not making any money off of this. I write only to entertain.

**A/N:** Well fuck me! It_ is_ chapter 22! _Two_ chapters for the price of one update? Oh, I'm too kind. There'd better be a crater on Venus named after me; an Apollo-esque, bare-chested Renaissance sculptor sculpting my likeliness into a block of flawlessly white marble, which he will then deliver in person to my front steps, along with a box of chocolate Valentines (didn't get enough yesterday); and, already in the mail, an invitation to appear on Oprah and discuss my awesomeness in front of an enraptured global audience, because I am _that_ divine a person. You're welcome.

Okay, okay. So maybe I'm just making up for leaving you guys waiting for so long. Again. I worked hard through the night (read: farted around my room a bit, returning to the computer every now and then to type a few sentences before falling asleep at around eight in the morning (I am nocturnal)) and am now the proud producer of a 2-for-1 special.

So, my cherished acolytes, _voilà_! _Ici un peu_ slashy-goodness _avec le_ beginning _du_ revenge _qu'est une_ bitch! (Believe it or not, I graduated high school with an 8 in French. My, what a difference three years make. _Je suis très_ disappointed in _moi-même_.)

* * *

_**Saturday, January 29, 2004**_

_**Time: 22.45**_

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" Tala demanded, releasing Hiwatari's arm once they were in the kitchen. Hiwatari had only allowed himself to be pulled off the couch, away from Brooklyn, because he needed to refill his half-empty glass. "Where ... I don't even know where to start!"

"How about explaining your poor taste in foot fashion?" Hiwatari asked, staring at Tala's mismatching shoes. "Or is this some form of foot fetish?"

Hiwatari reached for the bottle he'd left in the middle of the table, but Tala swiped it first and hurled it across the room, where it shattered against the wall in a spray of shards and red wine. Hiwatari looked disappointed at the loss, but shrugged it off.

"You seem peeved," he said calmly, settling on licking the lingering taste of fine wine from his lips. "What is the matter? Started the day off with the wrong shoe on the wrong foot? Ah, you literally did."

"You sick son of a bitch!" Tala hissed, wishing he'd thrown the bottle at the man's head. "What did you do to him? How dare you bring him into my home and take advantage of him?!"

"Should I have taken advantage of him somewhere else? But you can stop glaring now: I haven't touched him."

"He was pressed up against you!"

"Well then, _he_ was touching _me_."

"Why are you arguing?" asked a timid voice from the doorway.

Hiding behind the doorframe, Brooklyn was peering in with one eye, watching them nervously.

The blanket was still draped over his shoulders, pooling on the ground behind him. The shirt he was wearing (which had been taken from Tala's closet) hung from his skinny frame, making him look even smaller than the blanket already made him. His dishevelled hair was still damp from the bath that had washed away all fluids and filth from his body, but the injuries remained: his black eye; scratched and bitten neck and shoulders; bruised wrists and ankles; rug-burned elbows and knees. Old scars that had long healed gleamed smoothly in the light as he dared to enter. He walked with a bad limp, but not because of any leg injury. He was slightly off-balance, but not drunk. He'd left his wine glass and the bag of sweets he'd been enjoying on the couch, but there was still some traces of powdered sugar at the corners of his mouth and in the split in his lower lip, which he nervously licked at.

He looked like a lost orphan—which he was, technically, except he appeared to have shed twenty years since Tala last heard him. His posture, his voice, his expressions: everything about him gave the impression of a child trapped in a man's body.

He seemed fascinated by Tala, but could not work up the courage to approach him.

"Did I do something bad?" he asked Hiwatari, watching the remaining wine streaks trickle and dry on the wall. "Did I do that?"

"We're not arguing," Hiwatari said, filling his glass with water from the tap. "Mother accidentally swallowed a bullhorn when she was your age, so she just talks very loud all the time."

"Stop calling me that," Tala snapped, lowering his voice to prove Hiwatari wrong.

"He's just surprised to see you," Hiwatari explained to Brooklyn. Having already accepted the younger man's present state of mind, he spoke less eloquently to him; dropping his usual rhetoric in favour of simple and straightforward sentences that Brooklyn could understand. "He thinks I did something bad to you."

"No!" Brooklyn said, shaking his head at Tala. He grabbed Hiwatari by the waist, hugging him tightly. "Father would never! He saved me from the bad hands. Please, don't be angry with him!"

The sight of a human being willingly touching Hiwatari was unreal. Hiwatari did not reciprocate the contact, but he did not try to shake it off either. The only thrill he seemed to get out of it was Tala's incredulous reaction.

"Bad hands?" Tala asked, mind trying to sort through the insanity of the moment.

"Tell him," Hiwatari said to Brooklyn. "He'll believe you sooner than me."

Biting his cut lower lip, Brooklyn buried his face in Hiwatari's chest. His pale cheeks reddened.

"What's the first thing you can remember?" Hiwatari prodded, forcing him to turn back around and face Tala.

" ... Hands," Brooklyn said, gripping Hiwatari's forearms and wrapping them around him. He spoke with an empty look in his eyes, disassociating himself from his own account. "Bad hands touching me in bad places ... And pushing ... Pushing me down into a small, dark place."

His eyes suddenly darkened and he craned his head back, trying to touch lips, but Hiwatari pulled away.

"No," he said firmly, tapping Brooklyn's hip to snap him out of it. "What else can you remember about what happened? A face?"

Blinking, Brooklyn's eyes lost their lustful glaze. He seemed unaware of what he'd just attempted to do.

"No," he said, innocently leaning back against the body behind him. "It had no face. Just a hat ... And a voice."

"And what did this voice tell you?" Hiwatari asked, swatting at Brooklyn's hands, which kept playing with the hem of the borrowed shirt and causing it to ride up, risking exposure of bruised thighs and more.

"It said it was going to heal me, but that we had to go somewhere private first before playing doctor ... " Again, Brooklyn twisted in Hiwatari's grip, only able to continue talking while he distracted himself with the falsified nametag pinned to Hiwatari's lapel. "But the hands hurt me more ... The voice kept telling me to stop crying, but the hands kept hurting me ... I tried fighting, and the hands hit me." He touched his bruised eye. "I stopped fighting and they started touching me under my clothes. I cried some more, but they were too busy taking my clothes off to hit me ... "

Brooklyn hiccoughed. His teary eyes were growing dark again as he looked up at Hiwatari.

"The voice said I was a naughty boy and ... and that naughty boys liked it rough ... But I didn't like it, Father." He cupped Hiwatari's face, almost touching mouths as he whispered, "I didn't want to like it. I didn't want it at all ... Father, why did the voice say I wanted it? Why did the hands try to take it?"

"Because you weren't strong enough," Hiwatari said, his hands on the edge of the counter, supporting both his and Brooklyn's weight. "You're weak, and weakness entices dominance."

Stung, Brooklyn stepped away from him, running his hands through his hair.

"I tried to fight, Father," he said softly, eyes downcast. "I tried to be strong and brave."

" ... You fought back, and that's brave enough."

Tala surprised himself. He hadn't meant to get drawn into this, but his heart was slowly bleeding out for the sorry sight of a broken man unable to even feel sorry for himself.

"R-Really?" Brooklyn asked. "You think so?"

Taking hold of Tala's hand, he studied its unblemished skin with curious fingers.

"Your hands are nice," he said. "They're soft. They've never hurt anyone ... Was I really that brave?"

"What happened to the voice, Brooklyn?" Tala asked. "How did you get away from the hands?"

Brooklyn wiped his tears and smiled at Hiwatari, who was watching the interaction with much interest.

"Father saved me."

"_Him_?"

Tala's pessimistic reaction brought a smirk to the bluenette's face.

"Yes," Brooklyn nodded, beaming. "He pulled the hands away and told the voice to stop talking. He took me out of the dark place and told me to close my eyes and cover my ears. He went away for a bit, but then he came back for me and agreed to take me home, where the hands would never be able to hurt me again."

Hands slipped into Tala's open coat, around his back, pressing their bodies together. Tala gasped softly, arching his tender back away from the arms, but he was distracted by Brooklyn's eyes, which had gone deep blue again.

"Your hands won't hurt me, will they?" he asked huskily, brushing cheeks with Tala. "You'll never hurt me, will you, Mother?"

Brooklyn's searching lips didn't make it as he was eased off Tala, who slumped back against the counter, breathing heavily from the close contact. He could only watch as Brooklyn transferred his uncontrollable desire back onto Hiwatari.

"Please," he whispered, gripping the front of Hiwatari's shirt. "Please, Father, kiss me? Just one, please?"

"If you get one, will you go to sleep and let us talk in peace?" Hiwatari asked, pinning Brooklyn's grasping hands to his sides.

Brooklyn nodded, closing his eyes and moaning gratefully as Hiwatari finally obliged.

Tala felt sick, not because of the kiss itself, but because he couldn't stop staring, squirming on the spot as he watched the two former rivals hungrily devour the other's mouth. It shouldn't look so ... _erotic_, a mass murderer and what was essentially a man-child locking lips, but only by looking away could Tala keep himself in control.

"Good night, Father," Brooklyn whispered, cheeks flushed as Hiwatari released him. He came back over and hugged Tala, his eyes the picture of youthful innocence, though his skin was still hot from the kiss. "I've missed you, Mother."

He left, considerately closing the door behind him to give them some privacy.

"Have you completely lost your mind, Hiwatari?" Tala managed to ask.

Hiwatari, who'd by now taken a seat at the table, rested his chin in his palm, no traces of having been in any way affected by the kiss. Though he would never be able to prove it, Tala believed the man's mind to be elsewhere, even though the red eyes were fixed firmly on him.

"Am I being accused of something here?" Hiwatari asked, bored.

"You ... He clearly needs professional help and you're exploiting him!"

Hiwatari blinked, having lost track of the conversation whilst watching Tala's lips, but he had an answer for everything, of course.

"I did not instigate, nor encourage, his sporadic insatiability," he said, though he couldn't keep the smile off his face as his eyes strayed towards the door. "But I can't really punish him for it, can I? Forgive him, Mother, for he knows not what he does. It's his coping mechanism. I saw you when he was holding you. It was difficult to not give in for those few seconds, wasn't it? I've managed to hold out for several hours, if only out of respect for you and your home. But yes, if I had brought him back to my place I would have given in to the temptation."

"Exploitation," Tala persisted.

"He's a grown man," Hiwatari said, tapping with the toe of his shoe against the table leg in a repetitive manner. "He can do what he wants."

"His mind is that of a child. He cannot be held accountable for his actions."

"Well, since I've been labelled as insane myself, I can't be held accountable for my actions either, but you're unfairly accusing me of the attempted statutory rape of an adult. Double standards much, officer?"

"You must have played _some_ role in this."

"I'm good, but even I cannot determined how much memory a person can repress," Hiwatari said, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, left arm slung over the back of the chair. He was wearing the building's doorman uniform and there was a jingle of stolen keys whenever he moved. "It was all too much for him. Unable to face reality any longer, he has retreated to early childhood, presumably the happier years when his mother was still alive and his father kept his hands to himself. Thinking he's in control again, he uses sex, which had once been used to oppress him, to now empower and reassure himself."

"And asking him to call you 'Father' helps ... how?"

"Officer Ivanov, you're stubborn cynicism is trying. I never so much as suggested he call me anything. I was surprised when he first referred to me as such, actually. I saved him from the trunk of that car. In his eyes, I'm his hero, and who do young boys consider to be real life heroes? Their fathers. Ergo, my actions seem to have given him the impression that I sired him. It was he who also first asked about Mother's location. I toyed with the word, directing it at you in a satirical manner, but when you stepped in to comfort him after I had rebutted him he recognized that as the nature of a maternal guardian. Like it or not, you've misguided the poor boy into believing that, despite biological unfeasibility and stretching the limits of gender bender to breaking point, you are his mother ... Is gay adoption not yet legal in this country?"

Tala refused to pinch the bridge of his nose in front of this man. He'd rather let the budding headache develop than let Hiwatari know he was getting to him so early on.

"What happened between you and Murakami?" he asked, telling himself to just go ahead and get the un-pleasantries over with. (Whatever would remain wouldn't be any more enjoyable, but with any luck sufferable.) "Spare me the details."

"In all honesty, he's an unexpected element in the day's events. He was the victim of circumstance—No, he was the victim of his own doing, who just so happened to pick the wrong boy off the street to bring home to fuck. It must have been some time since he'd managed to land himself such a delicacy, so he was understandably selfish. He lashed out first, thinking I intended to share his catch. I acted purely in self-defence."

"You, the greater evil, only killed in self-defence? Really, Hiwatari, it's so unlike you to feel the need to justify the taking of a human life. Feeling guilty?"

Hiwatari's fingers and hands were so adept to wielding pointy objects that, despite not being in possession of a knife or a scalpel, they mimicked the twirling motion of an invisible blade, moving supplely in a hypnotizing routine as his even sharper mind continued to come up with ways to slice through Tala's words.

Besides, they both knew he was incapable of guilt, along with most other (positive) human emotions.

"And it's somewhat unlike you to not really care about Murakami's death," Hiwatari said, seeing Tala's sardonic question and a raising him a dead-on observation. "Three weeks ago you would have lectured me on the value of a life, no matter how worthless its actual price."

"Having dealt with and lamented the loss of so many innocent lives over the past couple of weeks there's little left in me to mourn a paedophile's death," Tala said thoughtlessly, barely even hearing himself.

Hiwatari's hearing was just as sharp as his mind.

"Tsk-tsk," he chuckled, moving from imaginary knife-twirling to strumming his fingers on the table. Tala had never seen him exhibit so many ticks and tweaks in such a short time. There was something restless about him tonight. "Indifference already setting in, then? _Just_ another body, right, officer?"

Tala's knuckles turned white as he gripped the back of the chair, shocked by his own callousness.

"That's not ... I'm not saying you had a right to kill him!"

"You're not, but neither are you thinking that Murakami's death has deprived the world of a outstanding citizen. If someone had to die, who would you rather it be: a young man who has known nothing but suffering, or a dirty old man who has done nothing but inflict the suffering on the young man?"

"Don't you mean _three_ old men?" Tala asked, throwing the crumpled paper from his pocket at Hiwatari, who caught it one-handed. "Murakami had no history of killing his victims. Are you saying that, had you not killed them first, Carlyle Kingston would have murdered his own son with the butler's help?"

Tala hated to think that he was beginning to understand the man, but he could tell by the change in tone that this was the subject Hiwatari had been wanting to talk about all along. Reading the solved anagram, Hiwatari smiled.

"I wanted to go with something more risqué than simply 'Yuri _loves_ Tala", but I could not think up an elegant pseudonym that could instead incorporate the words 'wishes to unceremoniously ravage' without being too obvious."

"Why?" Tala asked

Hiwatari deliberately misunderstood the question.

"Just as you do not mourn the loss of Murakami, you have not a tear to shed for Carlyle Kingston and Kiba Ozawa. Angry as you are about me inviting Brooklyn to stay here with you, you are secretly relieved that Brooklyn is currently fast asleep in your bed because it means he isn't spending the night hogtied to his father's. Thanks to me, he never will be again."

"Why?" Tala repeated.

Hiwatari_ had_ to know what he was asking, so he made sure to steer clear of the proper answer. He was telling the truth, but not what Tala wanted to hear. Before he'd get to that, he had to vent his reasoning to someone, and, against Tala's wishes, that someone was him.

"Carlyle ruined Brooklyn for me," Hiwatari said, his eyes laughing at Tala's growing impatience. "Had it not been for him I would have had a worthy rival to contend with. It was so rare, finding someone of equal intelligence, but Brooklyn could not enjoy the stimulant of our rivalry. He tried pushing me academically at first, but when I pushed back with the slightest of pressure he did what he'd been trained to do: submit. I had invested in a fulfilling challenge in Brooklyn, and suffered deep intellectual loss thanks to Carlyle. He owed me dearly, and now his debt has been paid.

"Yes, I killed them. I had been looking for suitable targets when I read in the morning paper that the millionaire Carlyle Kingston would be in Tokyo to close a multi-billion contract with the pharmaceutical industry. I knew Brooklyn would be there, and, I am embarrassed to admit, while I had anticipated his horror at his father's murder, I had not expected him to be as fast as he was. He got away long enough to catch the attention of a roaming rapist, but he had the phone with him, which emits a frequency that is easily picked up by a simple tracking device. I needed only follow the directions to the garage and pick up my runaway witness."

There. A relevant element of the answer to Tala's question.

"_Why_?"

"Why the butler as well? He was having his way with Brooklyn in the bathroom when I arrived. Having made my point to Carlyle, I simply knocked on the door. I had to knock rather loudly to be heard over Brooklyn's cries, but eventually the butler, thinking his allotted time was up, answered. You understand that he had to die, I assume. If I had only killed the father and left it at that, Brooklyn would have transferred his trust and loyalty onto his butler, the only other person he had left. With the father gone, the butler would be free to help himself to a generous serving of young flesh, finally able to fully satisfy his hunger, instead of having to make do with what the master threw him every once in a while, like table scratching. Whilst you, the protectors of the people, would carry out your investigation into his father's death, the butler would chivalrously drive Brooklyn to the station—only allowing him out of the car after strengthening their convoluted bond with a quick oral session—for interrogation. And there you'd be, the empathetic sponge that you are, soaking up the shamed tears he'd cry; absorbing the waves of self-pity and low self-esteem that would roll off him as he spoke about the discovery of his father's corpse, claiming to have been fast asleep in his own room (instead of bent over the toilet) during his father's final throes of death, because the butler had warned him that the truth would separate them and then he'd truly be alone in a hateful world. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

Tala did not even waste his breath speaking. Pulling up a chair, he sat down directly opposite the man, crossed his arms, and glared as strongly as he could with such a throbbing headache. He did not react when a foot caressed his inner leg under the table.

"Honestly, you are being so dull today," Hiwatari sighed, sitting up to plant his elbows on the table. He laced his fingers together and watched Tala from over the top of his knuckles, returning the hard stare with a far superior one. "_Why_? _Why_ stage the scene to make it look like Dox's modus operandi? That is a question your inferiors are allowed to ask, but not you, Officer Ivanov. You must have touched upon the answer already."

"You really did it to get Dox's attention? To piss him off?"

"Stop questioning your answers. You are right: make a proud statement of it."

"Why are you after Dox?"

"Why are you?"

"To bring him to justice."

" ... Hm. That's not why I'm doing it, but good luck to your cause."

"Are you working with him?"

"Now you're just being stupid."

"Then why the phone? Why purchase a phone and pay for a subscription, using a false name? Who were you planning to call before Brooklyn took the phone?"

"I never intended to call anyone. I wholly intended for Brooklyn to take the phone. The whole point of the phone was to provide Brooklyn with a means of contacting you. Your number is the only number saved in its memory. I needed him to alert you to set the plan into motion. I could have waited until the bodies were discovered on Monday, but that would have coincided with the discovery of Dox's own victim and my goal is to interfere with his own upcoming plans."

The thought of two murderers going head to head in the middle of the city was chilling.

"Why? Why do you suddenly care who Dox targets? Who are you trying to save?"

Hiwatari stood and stretched.

"If my plan works, you need never have to know," he said. His answer was casual, but Tala had never seen him this focussed and determined before, which was saying something.

"And if it doesn't?" Tala asked, remaining in his chair. "If Dox goes ahead and kills anyway, what will be the repercussions?"

"Wrath," Hiwatari answered, going back to elusiveness. "I have plans for the upcoming days, so I will leave you and Brooklyn to bond over this weekend. The two of you make an attractive pair."

Tala scoffed.

"Oh, is that a blessing? Or just your fantasy?"

"It will make for many arousing nights, once we've done away with all these other distractions."

"You better not be implying what I think you are," Tala said, cheeks heating up at the thought. "And what am I supposed to do with him now, which does_ not_ include a threesome?"

"Of course," Hiwatari pretended to reconsider, "I could spare you the inconvenience of having to put up with his sensuousness by abandoning him in a dark alley far from here. Some predator with better luck than Murakami might steal off with him, or the police will find and capture him and submit him to hours of gruelling questioning in their continuous refusal to believe his innocence, but at least he won't be a thorn in _your _side, right?"

Damn this man and his manipulative sensibilities. Damn himself for putting others before him all the time.

"How long do you think I can harbour a wanted suspect in my own home?"

"Not much longer," Hiwatari said as he crossed the narrow room. "Once I have dealt with Dox it will become obvious that Brooklyn is not the culprit and he will be free to return home."

"But until then, I could go to jail if I get caught!" Tala said, holding the door closed when Hiwatari started to open it.

"Then you can count your lucky stars that you've enraptured me so," Hiwatari said, abandoning the door in favour of pinning Tala against it, as if suddenly realizing that he'd gone this entire visit without molesting him once. "I have refined the art of entering and escaping: I'd get you out of there by the time it'd take your defeated lawyer to get through the security checkpoints. Brooklyn will not incriminate himself: he has no desire to leave this place and face the big, bad world just yet. Your only challenge is to make sure no one comes by for an unexpected visit."

"Yes, that won't be a problem," Tala said, earning himself a nip on the tip of his ear for his sarcasm, "seeing how good I am at keeping _you_ out of my apartment—Does Brooklyn still have the phone?" he suddenly remembered. "They could trace it straight to me."

"Your underestimation of my intelligence is insulting," Hiwatari said, unable to capture Tala's lips since he kept talking. "I took the phone off him and discarded it before even heading in this direction. They can look, but the search will take them to Osaka, where they'll find the phone stuffed in the backseat pocket on a high speed train."

Problem solved as far as he was concerned, Hiwatari pressed up hard against Tala, taking advantage of his quick gasp to steal a fervent kiss that made Tala grab at the strong shoulders to keep himself upright. Allowing him seconds to catch his breath before the next tongue assault, Hiwatari trailed his mouth down his neck, going straight for that traitorous spot that was Tala's ultimate weakness.

'Think of Bryan, think of Bryan, think of Bryan,' Tala chanted to himself. 'I love Bryan, I love Bryan, I love Bryan ... '

"Can you imagine my lips here and Brooklyn's _here_?" Hiwatari purred, cupping Tala between the legs. "Two mouths, licking and teasing you delirious? Four hands, stroking and plunging? Me above you, and Brooklyn beneath you? Or just the two of you, caressing and suckling each other while I watch?"

Tala shuddered as he rubbed against the hand.

'Think of Bryan ... I love Bryan ... Think ... Can't think ... '

He bit his own fist, trying hard not to picture the scenarios being whispered into his ear.

"I won't ... use Brooklyn," he panted, pushing back against the other.

"He will gladly use you, and be used by you," Hiwatari said smoothly, but, unlike with Brooklyn, this closeness to Tala did not leave him unaffected. He was working Tala hard and fast, but the sound of Tala's heavy breathing was more arousing to the bluenette than the act itself.

"And what about you?" Tala's eyes rolled back as he arched his back and stood on tiptoes, unable to fight it anymore.

"I will not use you so selfishly." Hiwatari rocked against him, grunting with every superficial thrust against Tala. He all but growled the next few lines. "I will just fuck you, as you like it. The question is: would you like it?"

"Y-Y-Y—!"

And then the hand stopped.

"Wh-What?" Tala asked, extremely hot and bothered at the delay, aching for release.

He shivered when Hiwatari's lips brushed against his neck, but it wasn't enough.

"Fuck you, Hiwatari," he moaned, dropping his head back against the door. "Finish i-it already."

"You reek of soap."

Not the most threatening of statements, but something about the way Hiwatari said it made it sound like a death sentence.

"What, is this a turnoff?" Tala asked, mind still too muddled to think of anything except the uncomfortable bulge in his pants. "I'm not allowed to take any more baths ... ?"

_Shit!_ After all that had happened today; the terrified calls, the short-lived kidnapping, the mislabelled murders, the futile searching, the twisted revelations, the irresistible lust, he had actually forgotten that he'd meant to be avoiding Hiwatari for one now-endangered reason: Johnny McGregor.

'Stay calm,' he said, moving as one would if confronted by a wild lion. 'He can only smell the soap. As long as that's all he can detect he can't do anything.'

Hiwatari's hand loudly planted itself next to his head, making him jump.

"I appreciate good hygiene as much as the next civilized man, but I did not realize just how suspiciously poignant your attempts at a cover-up were until now. You are hiding something from me," he said, speaking in a slow, dangerous manner. The red eyes seared as they continued their penetrating search, mapping every inch of his face, looking for a lapse, a tweak to give away the answer. "Whose scent have you been trying to erase so feverishly? Brooklyn's is to be expected, but who was before that?"

"I don't know what you're—"

"I smell the American's, which I will put down to professional contact. Who else?

'Bryan ... ' Tala thought, alarmed, remembering their earlier embrace.

"The Captain's," Hiwatari said, as if reading Tala's mind. "But I will also turn a blind eye this time and pretend that your conduct with him was merely professional. His scent is recent, like your colleagues'. Before that, however, you tried to scrub away something else. Who are you protecting?"

Tala had to support himself by placing his hands on his knees when Hiwatari released him. Tremors of unsatisfied desires still shook him, but they were being replaced by genuine shivers of fear.

"You're wasting your time," he said, blinking through the sweat-beaded eyelashes and hair. "What happened to those big plans you have for the weekend?"

His big plans, which could possibly decide Dox's fate and thus the fate of the case as well as the public safety of Japan, no longer seemed important to Hiwatari. Despite having sat with calculating excitement on his ambitious plans all this time, Hiwatari had just dropped everything in favour of solving this mystery.

"I just bought a new soap that stronger than the one I normally use," Tala said, trying to talk his way out of this before Hiwatari discovered the truth.

Not listening to him, Hiwatari delicately sniffed the side of his neck, causing goosebumps. But the masking sweetness of the soap used in all those baths was too much for even Hiwatari's keen senses. What the soap had not eradicated, the time that had passed since the assault had. Unable to identify the scent, he stepped back. Tala didn't know what he was up to, but at least he was now able to release his breath, which he'd been holding the whole time.

"Told you," he said, trying to sound victorious.

The kitchen clock ticked.

The fridge hummed.

Hiwatari tilted his head to one side, causing his grey bangs to fall before one eye. The other kept staring at Tala, never blinking.

"You missed a call of mine yesterday," he said, making Tala look up with guilty eyes. "It wasn't of importance, so I did not think it imperative to mention it. Where is the phone I gave you?"

"In my bag," Tala said without thinking. He knew what the next demand would be.

"Show me."

His bluff had been called, forcing him to abandon one life for another, which was not strengthening his credibility.

" ... A-Actually, I left it at the station."

"You are lying. Badly."

"What's it matter where the phone is?"

They both he couldn't produce the phone, but Hiwatari was determined to debunk his claims on his own grounds.

"Why did you flinch?"

"When?"

"When Brooklyn hugged you earlier."

How did the man notice such minute things? He had barely and very briefly winced when Brooklyn had unknowingly applied pressure to the bruise on his back.

"I wasn't expecting it," he said.

"You were in pain."

"I was—Aah!" Tala cried, suddenly pulled into a one-armed hug. The arm around him pressed into the bruise, locating the source of his pain. "Let go!"

"Is the person you're protecting worth the pain?" Hiwatari asked, not loosening his hold on him.

He was in agony. He wanted it to stop.

"Please, just let go!"

This was so different from before. No arousal, just panic.

"Who is it?" Hiwatari demanded.

He was trying to get away from the pain, but the hands wouldn't let go.

... running water ...

"No!"

Tala's struggle turned violent, making the pain a hundred times worse as he wrestled against the hands. Struggled, but could not overcome.

... gripping hands ...

"Let me go ... Let me go, please!"

Why couldn't he get away? What was going to happen if he didn't get away?

' _... relax ... you must have done this hundreds of times before ... '_

White tiles. Red blood.

"Not with you! I won't do it with you! Not again!"

Running water. Helplessly trapped. Hands using his crippling weakness against him.

"I don't want to! You can't make me!"

Hands restraining him right now, pushing him down.

"Fuck you! Let me go! Fuck you!"

' _... I already did ... and we'll do it again ... and again ... '_

His back was on the floor. The hands held him down firmly.

... running water ... bloody water ...

' _... and again ... and again ... feels good ... '_

"No, it doesn't ... I bled ... I didn't want it ... McGregor, stop touching me!"

The hands let him go.

Freed, he began to calm down as the convincingly nightmarish scene began to melt away, dissolving into his tears as they streaked his flushed cheeks.

He wasn't in the showers—he was in the kitchen.

He wasn't lying on the floor—he was lying on the table.

He wasn't staring up into McGregor's eyes—he was staring up into Hiwatari's.

"S-Shit," Tala stuttered, realizing his fatal slipup. "Hiwatari, it's not what ... "

Leaning over Tala, the man wasn't moving. His face was emotionless. His eyes were cold.

"The pain ... I didn't mean ... because of the pain I ... wasn't thinking straight ... "

The eyes narrowed. Hands reached out and lifted Tala into a sitting position.

"It ... I was lying ... Can't you tell when I'm lying?" he asked. "Please ... Say something."

Face to face, Hiwatari took one more look, deep into Tala's eyes.

The refrigerator stopped humming.

Hiwatari found it, the absolute truth. The kitchen light reflected in his eyes as he took a step back; it looked as though a violent flash had just streaked through the red irises. Something in the man snapped, severing his last few connections with humanity. Without even needing to look, Hiwatari pulled the largest cutting knife from the block.

'Idiot! Johnny, you fucking idiot!' Tala thought, watching the fire burning brighter and brighter in the red eyes. 'This is too dangerous! You don't know what you've done!'

Hiwatari's hand was on the door handle.

Tala leapt off the table, falling to his knees to grip the black trousers.

"I _beg _you! I will do anything; give you anything, just don't do it! Stop already! Stop killing, for God's sake!"

The knife gleamed, passing just inches from Tala's eyes as Hiwatari lowered himself onto his haunches. Looking up in the face above his, Tala could have just as well been staring at a complete stranger.

"Hiwatari?" he asked softly, trying to kindle a spark of recognition. "Listen to me ... "

But Hiwatari couldn't hear him. He was listening to other voices; reacting only to the ones in his head. They could be his conscience; they could be imaginary; they could even be his usual thoughts, but whatever they were, they now had full control over him and they were murderous.

It wasn't immediately clear who told him to tilt Tala's head back and kiss him, though.

"Kai?" Tala whispered when the lips finally lifted off his.

The name roused the man, but taking in Tala's tearful eyes, his shaking form, made him grip the knife's handle tighter. In his attempt to break through to Hiwatari, Tala had inadvertently struck the final nail into Johnny McGregor's coffin.

"He made you cry, just for me to hear his challenge."

That wasn't Hiwatari's voice: it had never sounded so deep, so ominous.

"He made you bleed, just to get my attention."

What was this thing that now possessed him? Whose hard eyes were those?

"He wishes me to retaliate?"

The carving knife spun with deadly accuracy in his hand, now gripped backwards.

"Then I will grant him his final wish."

'I can't stop him ... ' Tala thought, doing nothing even as Hiwatari stood. He watched the man open the kitchen door. 'No matter what I do, I'll never be able to stop him ... He'll kill him ... He's really going to kill Johnny ... '

The door slammed shut. A few seconds later, it opened again.

" ... Mother?"

Brooklyn poked his head inside, his hair more tousled than before. The commotion had woken him. Seeing Tala in an equally shaken state, he came over and joined him on the floor, rubbing sleepy eyes. He placed a bunch of keys in Tala's hand.

"You left them in the front door," he said, yawning. "Why did Father leave? Did you two have another fight?"

Tala stared at the keys, seeing only the large knife in Hiwatari's hands.

'He's gone to kill him. He's gone to kill Johnny.'

Pulling the cuff of his sleeves over his hand, Brooklyn gently dabbed at the tears still seeping from the corners of Tala's eyes.

"He's dead," Tala said, unable to overcome his disbelief. "McGregor's as good as dead ... because of me. It's my fault."

"It's alright. You didn't do anything wrong," Brooklyn said, not grasping the seriousness of the situation. "Remember what you told me? As long as you fight and try your best, it's always alright."

Touching his lips with trembling fingers, Tala shook his head.

"I wasn't strong enough."

"Well ... Father's strong enough for the both of us," Brooklyn said. "He saved me. He can save you too. Don't worry: whatever's the problem, he'll fix it."

"Not fix Tala said, allowing an arm to pull their shoulders together. "He's not going to fix the problem: he's going to kill it."

Brooklyn frowned, tucking his knees to his chest. He took hold of Tala's hand, offering comfort in his presence.

The clock ticked loudly.

Every second that passed was one second closer to McGregor's death. Johnny would not live to see morning.

"But it's not right to kill. He'll be doing something really bad ... Father must love you very much to do something that bad," Brooklyn said.

"He loves doing bad things." Tala buried his face in his hand, remembering his eagerness to participate in Hiwatari's love of sinful things with shame. "He loves it more than anything."

"More than you?"

Tala met the teal eyes.

" ... I don't know, but ... "

"If he loves you he won't do anything to make you sad."

' _... I will make you smile ... '_

Content that he'd made his voice, Brooklyn pulled his knees to his chest, smiling brightly at Tala as he watched him struggle to make a choice. His smile fell when Tala suddenly got to his feet.

"Are you going too?" he asked, following Tala out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?"

Straightening his clothes, Tala refused to reconsider his actions.

"To fix my own problems," he said, gripping the keys. "And if your Father 'loves' me in any way he will not get in my way."

Hugging himself, Brooklyn waved him off at the door.

"Come home soon," he said, happy to have helped in some small way. "But, Mother, why are you wearing two different shoes?"

_**Tbc ...**_

* * *

**A/N:** What ho? What's this I see on the next page? Could it be ... chapter 23?!

... No, it isn't. Now I know why I never update more than one chapter at a time: my brain feels like mulch. Place your bets: how long will it be until the next update?

On your mark ... Get set ... Wait and stew impatiently! Mwuahahahaha!!

P.S. Johnny McGregor: time to start running. Run, bitch-boy, run!

Read & Review, please.


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